Still Left Behind A Year Later
by MBP
Summary: COMPLETE at last. The sequel to Left Behind...George is still trying to cope. Sometimes things have to get harder before they can get easier. Sometimes, it seems like they'll never get easier. SPOILERS FOR DH.
1. Conversations with Fred

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Here is the sequel as promised. I have a lot to write about, but this first chapter is just a kind of intro/setup. I promise… it will get a lot more interesting.

A year had passed. The Weasleys had settled into some kind of new normalcy even though things were never as they had been before the war.

Molly finally abandoned her one-of-a-kind clock when she realized that none of them could bear to look at it anymore. Arthur had been spending more time at the Ministry, helping Kingsley rebuild the different departments, and Percy had moved back home and was often holed up with his father, discussing new Ministry policies. Bill and Fleur now had their first child, a little girl named Victoire, and they spent more time than ever at the Burrow. Charlie had moved back home, deciding that Romania was too far away from his family, and he worked at Hogwarts occasionally, helping Hagrid with Care of Magical Creatures. Ginny had been recruited to play Quidditch straight out of graduation, and Harry spent most of his time in Auror training, taking every chance he had to see Ginny whenever she was home. Hermione had gotten a job working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Ron, of course, was helping George with the shop.

George … wasn't the same person. Sure, he smiled, and he even made jokes once in a while, but the fun-loving part of him seemed to have died with his twin brother.

This was hardest on Ron. A lot of things were hard on Ron these days. Everywhere he looked in the shop, he saw pictures of his twin brothers, and whenever his eyes fell on Fred's face, he felt the same lump in his throat that hadn't seemed to disappear since the first day he'd come here with George eleven months ago. He thought this was supposed to be getting easier, but working in a joke shop where no one laughed was taking its toll on him. George didn't seem to notice. He didn't notice much anymore.

They were both very aware, however, that the one year anniversary of the Battle was approaching. It was impossible not to be aware. Everyday, the Daily Prophet ran a different article featuring a "war hero" who was lost in the line of duty, as the muggles called it, and all of the Weasleys lived in dread of the day that Fred's picture would be winking up at them from the cover. Ron was most nervous because he knew he, alone, would have to deal with George on that day. He didn't even know if that would be possible.

"What are you so _worried_ about?" Hermione asked almost impatiently. She and Ron were sitting in the Leaky Cauldron on their mutual lunch break. He looked stung by her tone and tried to roll his eyes, but she immediately realized how harsh she had sounded and reached for his hand. He took hers and squeezed it tightly, and she tried to soften her voice.

"Ron, you know there's nothing you can do to stop them writing this article, so just… I don't know. Grab the paper before he sees it? Honestly, though… what do you think will happen? He'll probably just ignore it, won't he?"

He shrugged, but he looked nervous. "'Mione, I don't know. But that's kind of what I'm worried about. You know he'll barely say Fred's name anymore. Even Mum doesn't think this is healthy, but she's afraid to say anything to him. And if she won't… nobody will."

Hermione nodded, acknowledging the truth of this statement. She spooned more soup into her mouth, and when she'd finished, she glanced at her watch and gasped.

"Oh, Ron, I've got to be getting back. Don't worry. We'll think of something later. We have at least until tomorrow."

She leaned across the table to kiss him and then dashed over to the fireplace to floo her way over to the Ministry. Ron watched her go with a bemused expression on his face. No matter how worried he was…and he worried more these days than he'd ever thought he would after searching for Horcruxes for a year… she could always make him feel somewhat better. He didn't know where he'd be without her.

Dropping money on the table, he walked out the back door, tapped the correct brick with his wand and stepped into Diagon Alley. He had just gotten to the front door of the joke shop when he noticed something inside that made him freeze in his tracks. The shop was empty but for George, and he was doing something Ron had never seen him do before. He was standing before one of the photos of himself and his twin, and he seemed to be talking animatedly. Slowly, quietly, Ron eased the door open, hoping to hear what he was saying. Hopefully, he was on the fellytone, and Ron just hadn't noticed. But he wasn't.

"So we've had some good sales today. Ron's made some sales, but it isn't like he's a natural at this yet. Not like we are…"

George trailed off. He still hadn't noticed Ron, who cleared his throat, causing his older brother to jump and whirl around. They stared at each other, and George flushed bright red to match his hair. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. Ron had a pit in his stomach. Things were worse than he'd thought. Much worse.


	2. Ron's concerns

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"But he was talking like he's still …" Ron couldn't finish the sentence, but he could glare at Hermione, completely aggravated that she wasn't as worried as he was. She sensed his anger and tried to reach out a hand to sooth him, but he was beyond soothing.

The two were sitting in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry had offered them use of the house for whenever the Burrow felt too crowded, but they only took him up on this offer occasionally. Hermione insisted that they didn't want to take advantage of his hospitality… a statement to which both Harry and Ron had rolled their eyes.

"Listen," Hermione said in her calmest voice. Ron tried to speak, but she grabbed his hand and said more forcefully, "Listen! Ron, I know you're upset. And I understand why you're worried. But… just think about this for a minute… all anybody's been talking about lately is the anniversary. It's been hard on everyone, but it'll obviously be especially hard on George. Maybe … maybe this is just the way he makes it a little easier? I know he won't say Fred's name, but maybe he needs to pretend he can still talk to him every once in a while? I mean…," and here she took a deep breath before finishing the next question, knowing the reaction she would get. She plunged ahead, avoiding her boyfriend's eyes. "Well… don't you do that sometimes too?"

She didn't need to be looking at Ron to know the flush creeping up his neck and ears. There was silence for a moment, during which his grip on her hand tightened. Finally, he said, his voice lower and huskier than it had been when he'd started the conversation, "I guess you're right." He cleared his throat and looked away. "It's just… I wish I knew what to do to make him smile again. He just… he doesn't seem like George this way."

Hermione nodded, her eyes filling with tears. She looked up, finally, and her eyes found the top of Ron's head as he stared at the table.

"I know," she whispered. "I hope it gets a little easier after the anniversary. Are you… are you going to say anything to your mum?"

Ron shook his head. He was still staring at the table. "I thought about it," he mumbled. "But I think you're right. He's probably just doing whatever makes this easier for now, and if Mum found out…" he trailed off, but he didn't need to finish for Hermione to know what he was thinking. Molly Weasley would be beside herself if Ron told her that he'd walked in on George talking to Fred. Even now, the merest mention of Fred's name could make her eyes fill on a moment's notice.

"Good," she murmured. Her hand was still in Ron's, and as she ran her fingers over his knuckles, she was somehow not surprised to see a tear plop on the table. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and only when Ron got his breathing back under control did he look up at Hermione. His eyes were red, but he seemed calmer, and his lips twitched in the ghost of a smile.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and she shook her head at him. Before he could say another word, there was a crack in the hallway, and they realized that Harry had arrived. Ron leapt from his seat and burst past his friend as he came walking into the kitchen.

"Hey Ro…" Harry stopped in confusion as the red-headed blur sped past him and up the stairs. He turned to look at Hermione, his eyebrows raised.

"You two have another row?" he asked, his voice light but his concern evident.

She shook her head, sighing. "It'd have been simpler, but no. He's worried about George. But I'll let him tell you when he gets back."

Harry's eyes asked hers the question neither of them would say aloud, and when she nodded slightly, he flinched.

"Poor bloke," he mumbled, walking around the kitchen and taking out enough settings for the three of them. Within moments, Kreacher appeared, whisking the items from Harry's hands and shooing him and Hermione from the kitchen. The two slowly made their way upstairs, by unspoken consent dragging their feet, trying to make as much noise as possible to alert Ron to their presence.

They sat in the living room in silence, and he joined them a few minutes later. His eyes were bloodshot, but he'd intentionally mussed his hair to distract from them, and Harry knew better than to say anything. In the back of his mind, though, he almost smiled, remembering memories he'd seen of another teenager intentionally mussing his hair, though for decidedly different reasons.

After an uncomfortable silence, he thought of something that would break the tension.

"I had an owl from Ginny today," he told his friends and was grateful to see Ron's answering smile.

"When's she going to be back?" he asked, leaning back against the couch, his arm comfortably around Hermione.

"A week," Harry said, a grin on his face.

Hermione smiled too and sent Harry a silent thank you with her eyes. He'd obviously picked a safe topic, and Ron had started to relax.

The rest of the night passed more peacefully, and after dinner, Harry disappeared into Sirius's bedroom, and Hermione and Ron went into another. Harry felt a pang watching them go. Suddenly, a week until Ginny came home didn't seem so short after all. He sighed as he climbed into bed and wondered if Ron would tell him what was going on with George. Tonight hadn't seemed like the right time to ask, given how upset Ron clearly was … and how desperately he was trying to hide it.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat when he realized that all of this probably had a lot to do with the anniversary. He understood Ron's pain better than he wanted to. There were so many reasons to still be sad. He rolled over in bed, hugging his pillow to him, and he found himself searching for the picture of the Marauders in the darkness. For once, his eyes found Remus first, and the picture blurred as he suddenly found himself blinking back tears. No, this anniversary wasn't going to be easy at all.


	3. Dinner at the Burrow

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: And just like last time, the chapters get progressively longer. This will eventually deal with every family member. I figured I'd just hit the most directly affected ones first. The climax will obviously be the anniversary, although I'm not sure yet how soon that will be. I suppose this will take on a life of its own just like the last story.

He knew Fred couldn't really hear him. Of course he knew that. He hadn't lost his mind… just his twin. George rolled his eyes as the maudlin thought occurred to him. Sometimes he wondered if Fred were up there, rolling his own eyes at how pathetic George had become. It wasn't that he was crying all the time and burdening everyone. No, he hadn't cried in almost a year now, and he certainly wasn't talking to anyone about anything important. He was the only member of his family who couldn't even bring himself to say Fred's name aloud. But he knew that if anyone ever knew what he was thinking, it was Fred, and if he somehow still had access to his thoughts… well, even though it would be embarrassing, George hoped wholeheartedly that he did … he also knew his twin brother would shake his head in disgust.

George stood in the center of his room above the shop… and oh how long it had taken to think of it as his room and not their room … and after a moment, he threw himself backwards onto his bed. He barely even talked to Fred inside his own head, knowing how futile that one-sided conversation would be, but the one time he just couldn't help himself, Ron, of all people, had to walk in.

George winced when he remembered the look of horror in his little brother's eyes. There would never be an easy way to explain that, and he fervently hoped that if he just ignored it and pretended it hadn't happened, Ron would play along. He probably would… he probably dreaded that particular conversation as much as George did. He just hoped that Ron hadn't mentioned this to Harry or Hermione. Now _that_ would be embarrassing.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. It was over now, and there was nothing to be done for it. He glanced at the clock and realized with a sinking feeling that it was almost time for his weekly trip to the Burrow. His mother had made him promise he'd eat at least one home-cooked meal a week, and considering they both knew full well that he wasn't going to cook for himself, they also knew that this was her surefire way of checking in with him periodically. It wasn't that he _minded_ it, but… it was just hard being back there with all of the people who … for lack of a better word… _understood_. Working with Ron wasn't as hard as going back to his parents and seeing the pain they both tried to hide. At least he could kick Ron around. His mother's barely-repressed tears always managed to make him feel like someone had kicked him in the stomach, and his father's new, quieter nature hurt even more than that. He missed his never-ending Muggle-inspired inventions….

Realizing he would be late if he didn't leave right then, George gathered a few of his newest jokes to show his parents and after flicking off the lights, he disapparated to the Burrow. He walked in to find Molly at the stove and Arthur at the table. In other words, everything was as it was supposed to be, and he smiled almost against his will.

"Hey Mum, Dad," he said quietly, and they both looked up quickly, smiling to see George.

"George!" Molly cried, rushing to embrace him, her wand in hand. He hugged her quickly and then turned to sit with his father at the table. Arthur had the Daily Prophet in front of him, and George felt a pang when he saw the picture of Colin Creevey on the front page. He'd been so small… but no. He wouldn't think about that now, not with his very perceptive mother now studying every inch of him.

"Honestly," she said in exasperation, renewing her efforts over the stove, "you get thinner every week. Maybe you should come twice," she said thoughtfully, tapping the pot with her wand, and George rolled his eyes.

"Mum, I'm _fine_," he said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He turned beseechingly to his father, but Arthur was absorbed in today's tribute article and didn't speak. Molly looked over at them and realized why her husband hadn't said a word.

"Arthur," she said, more sharply than she intended, and he looked up with a start. "Dear, George is here. You can read that later, can't you?"

"Oh, oh sure," he said quickly, folding up the paper and shoving it onto the mantle behind him.

"So how's the shop coming?" he asked George as he did every week when he returned for dinner. "Ron pulling his weight?"

At the mention of Ron's name, George felt his face flushing slightly as he remembered the afternoon, but he answered smoothly enough. "Yeah, he's fine. We came up with some new ideas this week."

He tipped the new inventions onto the table and was still explaining them to his father when Molly came toward them, guiding the dishes in front of her until they landed neatly in front of George, Arthur and herself.

"Percy owled earlier," she explained when George looked at her questioningly. "He has to work late. But he promised he'd be home next week when you come."

George nodded, glancing down to hide his sudden disappointment. He'd never in his life thought he'd be sad not to have Percy at the dinner table, but it did take off the pressure… and he'd kind of gotten used to having him around again.

Dinner was exactly as he'd come to expect it… full of delicious food and Molly's constant worrying. He knew why she worried about him, and he appreciated it, but if she asked about girls one more time, he thought his head might explode. Finally, they finished eating, and George stood up, shoving the jokes into his pocket.

"Thanks Mum," he said, and as she stood to hug him, he could see the hint of tears in her eyes, and he closed his own as he allowed her to hold onto him for a few moments longer than he usually did. It wasn't much, but he hoped it helped a little. He certainly wasn't willing to do much more. When she finally did let go, she gave him a watery smile and then quickly left the room.

Arthur had picked up the newspaper again, but he was watching Molly go, a far-away look in his eyes.

"Er… Dad?" George asked, and Arthur quickly refocused on his son.

"Yes, George?"

"If … if you're done, would you mind if I …" he gestured vaguely to the newspaper, and Arthur's blue eyes suddenly seemed a lot more understanding than George expected. He looked away from his penetrating gaze quickly and almost missed his father handing him the paper.

"Thanks," he said, wondering why it was suddenly hard to say another word. He couldn't stay there a moment longer. He disapparated back to the store, wondering why he'd even asked for the paper in the first place. It was the one thing he'd been trying to avoid lately.

Once back in his own room, he stared at the picture of Colin, in which he was ironically holding a camera of his own. He tried to read the article but found his eyes inexplicably burning. Tossing the paper to the floor, he turned over and buried his face in his pillow. It couldn't be anything a good night's sleep wouldn't fix.


	4. Making plans

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The bell over the door tinkled, and George looked up from the register. His face relaxed in a smile when he saw who it was, but Ron was out on the floor, helping customers, so he didn't see someone creeping up behind him. George had to smother a laugh as he watched his brother rise a few feet in the air when Lee levitated him, dropping him back down unceremoniously in front of the kid he'd been helping. Ron's face was scarlet for a moment, and then he had to laugh grudgingly along with the 10-year-old boy who was now pestering Lee to show him how he'd done that. Lee patted the kid on the head and then wandered over to George.

"How's business?" he asked leaning against the counter out of the way of the crowded queue.

George took a moment away from his fifth customer in a row to shoot Lee a look, and his friend laughed.

"Ok, ok, stupid question. I just stopped in to see if you wanted to get something to eat later. I know you were at your parents' house last night, but you probably don't have anything on for tonight, right?"

George finished bagging the skiving snackboxes, smiled at the boy in front of him and said distractedly, "yeah, sure, sounds great."

Lee pushed himself off the counter. "I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron after you close?"

"Uh huh," George muttered, now trying to get the pygmy puffs to roll into the box in an orderly fashion. Lee gave this one an amused look before finding his way out of the store.

It took another fifteen minutes for the rush to die down, and then George and Ron were alone for the first time that day. There was an extremely uncomfortable silence until Ron broke it, saying, "I stayed at Grimmauld Place last night, but I just heard what Lee said. How were Mum and Dad?"

George let out a deep breath he didn't even know he'd been holding and looked at his younger brother gratefully. It seemed as though Ron had finally figured out the right things to say, and it couldn't have come at a better time, George decided. He also decided not to think Hermione had some hand in this because that would mean Ron had told her about his little conversation with Fred, and he just didn't want to think about facing her if she knew about that.

"They're fine," he finally answered. "Mum fed me up, and Dad read the paper. Perce was working late, but he supposedly said he's going to be there next week for sure. Don't know why he's so bothered about it…" he trailed off as he realized for the first time just _why_ Percy was going to make sure he was at dinner at the Burrow with George next week. Next week's dinner would be the day before they all went back to Hogwarts for the … for the thing.

George didn't look at Ron, but he didn't need to. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and then George heard Ron's muffled voice say, "Be back in a second," and he rushed from the room.

It didn't take long for George to figure out where he was going. There was only one person Ron seemed to want to be around these days, and as much as he loved Hermione like she was already another sister, George sometimes felt lonely when Ron went to her.

"Oh, don't be a prat," he muttered to himself. "If he didn't go to her, he'd talk to you. Do you really want _that_?" He busied himself with arranging the boxes on the shelves so he wouldn't have to think about that answer, also ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking violently. He finally gave up on the boxes and somehow found his way to a seat behind the register. For some reason, his legs no longer wanted to hold him up either.

It wasn't that he didn't know that the anniversary was coming up, of course. Anyone who woke up in the morning everyday couldn't avoid that lovely piece of information. But he just had managed to put it out of his mind so firmly that he really hadn't known it was next week. Next week… George stared at his shaking hands and didn't see them. What he did see was Hogwarts as it had been the last time he'd seen it, walls blasted apart, portraits torn in two, and the Great Hall… no. He couldn't let that image fill his mind now. He'd managed not to think of it for almost a year, and he was afraid of what would happen if he let those memories in. He didn't want to find out.

He was saved from further introspection by a new customer. He'd never been more relieved to get back to work. When Ron returned moments later, George ignored his worried expression and forced a very unnatural smile.

"You need to get Hermione to go over those books again at some point," he said in a low voice. "I'm sure she'd tell me if you were stealing, right?"

Ron managed a half-smile. "Don't be so sure about that. Whatever is mine will probably be hers someday… I wouldn't put it past her to look out for my best interests."

George rolled his eyes. "Well, I'll have to hope for the best until we find someone else to do the books. She won't have time for much longer, I'm sure," he said, and Ron nodded his agreement.

They managed to stay on safe topics for the rest of the afternoon, but when they closed up that night, George found himself saying the last words he expected to come out of his mouth.

"I'm meeting Lee for dinner, and I'm sure you're going to Hermione and Harry, but do you want to come back and sleep here tonight? We do have another …" He couldn't finish. He couldn't even look at Ron, whose face had turned so white that the freckles stood out with startling clarity. But he was grateful when his younger brother once again seemed to know the right thing to say, which, this time, was simply, "Sure."

George headed toward the Leaky Cauldron, wondering what on earth had possessed him to invite his brother to sleep over the shop. No one slept in that bed. But he just… he needed the company, he admitted to himself grudgingly. He just hoped Ron wouldn't take this as an opportunity for a stupid talk. If he did, he'd _know_ he was listening to Hermione too much.

A/N: The next chapter will have George's dinner with Lee and Ron's dinner with Harry and Hermione, and then it will bring the two of them together. It seems like the perfect structure for a pretty long, important chapter. And having Ginny come home in a week worked out after all. She'll be in the story a lot more after that.


	5. Dinner with Lee

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Lee was already there when George walked in the back door of the Leaky Cauldron, and Tom came over and took their order the moment George sat down. George tried not to notice the careful way a lot of people were trying not to look at him. He knew why, of course, but it didn't mean he had to think about it.

After a few minutes of talking about the relatively mundane details of their days, Lee glanced around the room for the third time since they'd sat down. Looking back at George, he said, "they all keep glancing over here. You've noticed, right?"

George winced and didn't meet Lee's eyes.

"Yeah," he said shortly. "I know."

"But… but why? Anything new going on at the shop that you didn't tell me about?"

George stared at him in surprise. He really didn't know? But why would he ask if he did? He wasn't the kind of friend to bring up hard topics if he could help it, so George figured he deserved the truth.

"It's because of next week," he muttered, knowing that would be enough. It was. Lee's face drained of color, and even out of the corner of his eye, George knew that Lee had been trying to forget about it almost as much as he had.

"Oh," he said weakly, now studiously avoiding George's eyes. This, of course, was not a problem. George had no intention of making eye contact either. They were still staring at the table when Tom returned with their food, and they tucked in immediately.

For a few minutes, they ate in silence, and then Lee cleared his throat nervously. George looked up from his plate for the first time since it had arrived and couldn't believe how anxious his friend looked.

"What is it?" he asked him. He didn't expect the answer.

"I … I kind of don't want to go back to Hogwarts," he said very quietly. George let his fork fall to the plate with a clatter, trying not to notice the heads turning at the sound. He stared at Lee and was surprised to find desperation rising like a bubble in his chest. He struggled to keep his voice calm.

"Well, neither do I," he said as quietly as he could manage, "but I have to." He didn't say any more for a moment, hoping that Lee would take the hint. When he didn't answer, George continued, hardly knowing what he was saying.

"If I have to go, then you have to go too, right?" his voice went up on the 'right,' and he cringed inwardly, knowing how weak and ridiculous he sounded. If Fred could see him now, practically begging Lee to go back to Hogwarts with him, he'd be rolling his eyes in disgust. In fact, he realized, he often thought that Fred would be rolling his eyes in disgust at the things he'd found himself doing in the last year… namely, not laughing, hardly smiling, and even … well, even crying occasionally. He felt his face flush slightly and hoped Lee would just answer him already. Too much time to think these days was rarely a good thing.

Lee slowly raised his head, and his eyes were shining. George hoped fervently that it was the non-existent candles, but his friend's strangled voice told him otherwise when he finally said, "Of course."

George felt himself sag with relief, but he merely nodded his appreciation. He didn't trust himself to speak right then. He was afraid of how his own voice would sound, given that Lee sounded like he was choking on his dinner, and just moments before, he, himself, had sounded an awful lot like Ginny.

After the friends sat in silence for a few more minutes, with many slow deep breaths on either side of the table, they resumed their conversation on a much safer plane, discussing upcoming Chudley Cannons games. When they finished eating, they walked out the back door, ready to go their separate ways, and George was about to head down Diagon Alley when he realized Lee was still standing there, looking as though he were struggling with whether or not to say something.

"What," George asked heavily, and Lee shook his head.

"Nothing. It's just… nothing. Never mind."

"No." George hated to admit he was curious now, given that he was pretty sure that he didn't want to hear whatever Lee had been about to say, but he was. He asked again. "What is it, Lee?"

"Well… it's just that… next week. Are you going to say anything at the … at the thing?"

George felt his heart sink into his trainers. He'd managed to forget that his mother had very hesitantly asked him this question a month ago. He'd not answered her yet, so he didn't know where this answer was coming from as he met Lee's eyes.

"I guess I should," he tried to say lightly, but he knew he wasn't fooling either of them. Lee simply nodded.

"Ok," he said, turning to walk towards his own flat. He'd only made it a few steps before he half-turned, adding "Good."

George watched him go for a moment before turning to go his own way. He was glad Lee thought it was good. Someone should. Now that he'd made a decision, he somehow thought it might be the least good he'd feel in a while. He was suddenly kind of glad Ron had agreed to sleep over. If his little brother really _were_ listening to Hermione, then he probably _would _try to talk to him, and George realized that he had a few things he _might_ want to say. But he most definitely was not going to start this conversation himself. No, he was not. But that was ok. He had a strong feeling Ron would do it anyway.

A/N: I'm sorry. I know this isn't as long as I'd promised, but this conversation took on a life of its own, and I figured it deserved its own chapter. It is pretty important. Next chapter will have Ron, obviously.


	6. Ron's fears

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: So sorry this took so long. I was away on vacation. (I will point out that I had this in my head most of the time and was writing ideas for this chapter on scraps of paper in the hotel room.) Sorry once again that I'm making you wait for the Ron/George chapter, but this also ended up being a lot longer (thankfully) and more important than I expected it to. I hope it was worth the wait. The next chapter is an obvious one, I'm assuming.

Ron apparated directly to Grimmauld Place, hoping against hope that Hermione had finished up early for the day, but he was alone when he got there. Kreacher came to his assistance immediately when he heard him in the kitchen, and he was sitting alone, moodily sipping at the tea the elf had prepared for him, when Harry came walking into the room. He stopped in surprise to see his best friend there, and he was especially surprised when Ron barely looked up at him. He sat down opposite him hesitantly. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes until Harry finally felt that he should break the silence.

"How was your day?" he asked with false cheer, but his words landed on the table between them almost as if he hadn't said them. Ron didn't answer, so he tried one last time. "Are you going home to the Burrow tonight, or are you staying here again?"

Ron's shoulders jerked, and his head finally came up. His eyes were haunted, and Harry felt something twist in him. He glanced away, trying to make it easier for Ron to say whatever he needed to. It worked.

"I'm sleeping… over the shop tonight," he said haltingly, and then he looked directly at Harry, his expression pleading. "He… he might want to talk. I don't know…" he trailed off, but Harry knew what he wasn't saying, and he tried to be reassuring, wishing with all his might that Hermione would just get out of work already. She was so much better at this than he was.

"But it's good, isn't it?" he asked. "Your mum's always saying how worried she is that he won't talk to anyone. At least he'll talk to you tonight, maybe, right?"

Ron nodded, but now he wouldn't look at Harry, and his friend could see from the set of his shoulders that there was a lot more that he wasn't saying. He took a deep breath. Now was obviously the time for this conversation if only because Hermione weren't here, and Harry knew that Ron needed to say these things to someone. He hoped he was up to it.

"Why wouldn't that be good?" he asked softly, and Ron shrugged, but Harry knew he was going to answer when he was ready, so he waited. He waited for three whole minutes until Ron muttered,

"Of course it's good, but… it's not supposed to be me."

There was a sick swooping sensation in the pit of Ron's stomach. He couldn't look at Harry, so he stared down at the table, but he continued. "It should be Fred. He always talks to… talked to…"

He couldn't continue, and he couldn't look at Harry. He pursed his lips together so tightly that they almost disappeared into a thin, white line, but it couldn't prevent the hot tears from welling up in his eyes.

Harry was frozen in his own seat. He hadn't heard Ron say Fred's name in months, and it had a similar effect on him. He felt a hard lump in his throat, and he swallowed, wishing devoutly for Hermione, for Ginny, for anyone who would know what to say here and who might actually be able to use their voice. He seemed spectacularly unable to do that very simple thing.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and Harry tried to ignore the only sound in the room, which was Ron's hoarse breathing as he tried unsuccessfully to wrest himself under some semblance of control. It didn't work too well, though, and he found his own eyes blurring as Ron's pain reminded him of everything he, too, had lost.

By the time Hermione arrived, Kreacher had long since abandoned them as a lost cause after attempting many times to feed them. Each sat isolated in his own misery, still sitting across from each other at the table but refusing to look up. She looked back and forth uncertainly, clearly worried about both of them and not knowing whom to address first. Harry tried to give Ron a few more moments to master his voice, so he forced his own out.

"Are you going to stay here for dinner tonight?" he asked her, unable to think of any other topic. She seemed to understand, though. She always did, Harry acknowledged ruefully. She sat down beside Ron, who still hadn't looked up, and said calmly to Harry, "I think I will."

He nodded, and there was another silence until she continued, much to Harry's surprise, by turning to Ron and asking, "Are we sleeping here tonight?"

Ron froze, and they both saw it. Very slowly, he raised his head to look at his girlfriend, and Harry caught a glimpse of his friend's red eyes before he quickly looked away.

"George asked me to stay," he choked, and this time, he didn't even try to stop the tears. "'Mione, he's supposed to talk to Fred. He always talks… talked…" He couldn't go on, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione put her arms around him and hold on tightly, her own eyes overflowing as she murmured, "I know. You're right. It's supposed to be Fred."

Harry sat as though he were frozen to his seat, listening to Ron's sudden heaving sobs, a sound even more painful because he knew how much he wished he could prevent this, especially with Harry sitting right there. As much as he tried to move, though, he couldn't. His own eyes had filled again, and he brushed at them furiously, wondering how they were ever going to make it through Hogwarts next week if they couldn't even keep it together now.

It wasn't until minutes later that they all started to breathe somewhat normally again, and Hermione was the first to speak.

"I think we both understand why this is so hard, Ron," she said quietly, motioning to Harry with her wand. For the first time, Ron looked up, and Harry nodded. The boys looked at each other for a moment, each silently sending the other his gratitude.

Ron sighed and looked back at Hermione. "I know you two understand," he muttered, his voice subdued. "But do you honestly think George will? I _can't_ do _this_ to _him_." He flushed, and Hermione laced her fingers through his.

"You think _George_ won't understand this is hard? If anyone knows how hard this is, it's him. Just… be there. If he wants to talk, he will. And you'll listen. And you'll say whatever you hear my voice saying in your head," she added matter-of-factly, gaining small smiles from her two best friends.

"That _is_ her best advice, mate," Harry said, talking directly to Ron for the first time in a while, and Ron nodded, letting out another explosive breath.

"I know. I'm obviously going to go. But… you'll both be here in the morning? For when I come back?"

They both nodded, and he nodded too. "Ok. Then I'm going to go now because he was only meeting Lee at Diagon Alley for dinner, so he should be back already. I'll see you both in the morning." He pulled Hermione to him in a bone-crushing hug, and Harry heard him mumble something before he realized that Ron was turning to him, and he stood up, pushing his chair back, and hugged him quickly but fiercely. A moment later, he turned and was gone. Harry turned to Hermione and was unsurprised to see the worry in her face. He knew it mirrored his own.


	7. Fears realized

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

George was in the shop when Ron got there, and he was predictably going through the inventory. It was late, and the shop had been closed for hours, but this had become an unofficial tradition for George as he stalled going up to his flat alone for as long as possible. Tonight was no exception until Ron appeared before him.

The two looked at each other for a moment before George closed the book with a sigh.

"Tired?" he asked. He was happy that his voice was neutral because he'd been fighting flutterings of panic ever since he'd left Lee and realized he'd committed himself to the impossible.

Ron nodded. The thought of sleeping in Fred's bed had rendered him mute. He was afraid of how his own voice would sound if he tried to speak right then.

He followed his older brother up the stairs to the room he had once shared with his twin, and as George opened the door and Ron caught his first glimpse inside, he felt himself reeling. He hadn't been in here since the first time they'd all come back to the shop just days after the funeral to clean up a little before reopening. No one had. Any time any of their family had come to the shop, they'd firmly stayed there.

Ron's head spun as he stared around and realized that nothing had changed since that day. Most notably… Fred's bed was exactly as he had left it a year ago. For a moment, a desperate thought raced through his mind. Maybe George knew something none of the rest of them did. Maybe Fred hadn't died. Maybe he was still sleeping here at night, but he was in hiding because he didn't like the rest of his family. But just as quickly as it was born, the hope died, and Ron found the room blurring as he realized that what he was seeing wasn't Fred's return. It was George's grief.

It took George a minute to realize what had happened to Ron. He'd gone into the room ahead of him, sat down on his own bed, and was untying his shoelaces when he realized that Ron wasn't in the room yet. He looked up and saw where he was staring and, for one of the very rare times in his life, was at a loss for words. It had never occurred to him that this might be considered strange, but now he saw the room as Ron did, and he felt himself flushing.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, and Ron continued standing there, trying to look anywhere but at George, so his brother wouldn't see the tears that were now dangerously close to the surface. But George did see them, and he realized that he had to do something.

"Come on in," he said evenly. When Ron didn't move, he got up and walked over to him.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," George went on, "but don't tell Mum or Dad about this. You know they would worry, and there's no reason..."

Ron snapped. He didn't know how or why, but he suddenly found himself shouting at George for the first time in a year.

"No reason?! Look at this, George! This isn't what your life is like anymore! This can't be … it can't be normal and it certainly isn't healthy! Fred is … well, he's not living in this room with you, and for you to pretend he is… maybe I _should_ tell Mum! Somebody has to know what you're doing to yourself!"

George had been staring at his younger brother, but as his words hit their mark, he dropped his gaze to the floorboards. Ron's shouting ceased almost as quickly as it started, and he stood there breathing heavily, completely unaware of the tears running down his face.

There was more silence, and then George choked out, "I can't get rid of him, Ron. I need him… I need him to still be here."

He turned away from Ron and stumbled back to his bed. He sat with his back to the door, and he wouldn't turn around even when he knew Ron was sitting beside him.

"Go away," he mumbled. This was ridiculous. Why had he even invited him to stay? No one had gotten him this upset in a year, and he was most certainly not going to make nice with the one person who'd suddenly managed to make him feel again.

Ron didn't answer. He didn't even move. After a few moments of sitting in silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry, but I … I can't take it back, George. I'm worried about you. Everyone is, and they haven't even seen this."

George shook his head. He still didn't turn around. Ron didn't speak. After a minute, George mumbled, "None of us is dealing with this the right way. Is there a right way? But I asked you to sleep in … in that bed tonight. And I'll have you know that I decided to talk at Hogwarts next week. You can't say I'm denying it if I'm going to stand up and say something, can you?" He winced as he heard himself trying to explain things to Ron. Why did he even care if Ron understood? _Nobody_ understood. He was used to that. And yet... somehow it suddenly seemed important that somebody did... even if that somebody were his git of a younger brother.

Ron was silent for a minute. The thought of George giving Fred's eulogy rushed through his mind as a counter argument, but he decided against using it. He didn't want to fight. That wasn't the point.

"That _is_ good," he conceded quietly. Neither of them said anything, and then Ron swallowed hard.

"Can I still stay?" he asked.

Without turning around, George nodded, and Ron got up and moved to the bed across the room. He stared at it for a moment before sitting on it gingerly. He shoved off his shoes and slid under the covers. After a moment, he rolled over and shoved his face into the pillow, unconsciously trying to see if it still smelled like his brother. All it smelled like was the room in which it lay, and Ron felt disappointment like a physical blow.

George had turned to watch him, and now he muttered, "I could have told you it doesn't smell like him anymore. It stopped after a few days."

A heavy silence descended on the room, and George got into his own bed, waving his wand to turn out the lights. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and then Ron said quietly, "Have you decided what you're going to say?"

George didn't need to ask him what he was referring to. He was just happy his voice was his own again when he answered. "No. Lee just asked me tonight if I were going to do it, and I don't even know why I said yes. Mum asked me about it weeks ago, and I couldn't give her an answer. So … no. I have no idea what to say."

Ron stared up at the ceiling. "Well… I don't know either, but if you want, maybe Hermione could help…" he trailed off when George snorted.

"No offense," his older brother added quickly. "You know I love your girlfriend. But she's _your_ girlfriend. I couldn't ask her to help me with this."

Ron was slightly mollified, and he turned on his side to face George. "Well… won't you be able to think of this on your own? I know you did it for the eulogy."

George sighed. "Yeah. I did. But … that was different."

He didn't explain. He didn't need to. Ron well remembered the numbness of that week, and he had no desire to discuss it. Suddenly, inspiration hit him.

"I know," he said slowly, feeling the first real relief he'd felt in days. "Ginny's coming home in a couple of days. Harry told me."

George suddenly found himself smiling. "She is?" he asked, his happiness evident in his voice. But his happiness suddenly faded when he realized why she was coming back.

"That's … that's great," he concluded lamely.

"No, listen," Ron said urgently, knowing why George's mood had changed. "_She_ can help you."

It seemed so simple to him, and George didn't want to make an unexpectedly hard night even worse.

"Yeah, great," he said, trying to shove some enthusiasm into his voice. It was enough to fool Ron, who faded off to sleep quickly.

George lay awake for hours. He _would_ be happy to see his little sister. He couldn't deny that. But to ask for her help with something like this? She was his _little _sister. He couldn't do that. He had to be strong for her… not let her be strong for him.

A/N: Well, this turned out differently than I expected it to. But I'm sure you can see where Ginny's role will come in… even if George can't. Let me know what you think. (And this is the longest of the three chapters, as promised.)


	8. Ginny's return

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. 

A/N: Let the Ginny chapters begin. The other family members will be coming into these soon too. I thought I'd have more here, but I'm going to let this chapter stand as is. Rest assured more will follow relatively quickly. (Maybe even more quickly than usual.)

The Burrow was Ginny's first stop when she came home just three days after Ron and George talked. Molly would have her head if it weren't, and she knew it. She apparated right into the garden, breathing deeply, trying to absorb every bit of the smell of home. It had been over a month since she'd had a chance to come back, and she grudgingly admitted that she might have even missed her mother's constant worrying. Smiling to herself, she walked in the kitchen door. Molly's back was to her, and she quietly sidled up to her mother, waiting until she was right behind her to reach out and tap her on the shoulder.

"What is it?" Molly asked, brushing red hair out of her eyes. She didn't turn around until she heard the voice of her only daughter laughingly saying, "Not even a hello?"

Whirling around, Ginny hardly had time to catch her breath before she was caught in a crushing hug. Neither spoke for a moment -- Molly because she was so overwhelmed with emotion at having her baby back, Ginny because her mother was squeezing the life out of her -- until they finally released each other. Ginny was completely unsurprised to have her mother instantly eyeing her critically.

"Sit," she ordered, shooing Ginny to the table. "You look positively starved. Don't you eat between practices?"

Ginny nodded her head in exasperation. There was no use in answering that she ate three square meals a day because unless Molly fed them to her herself, she'd never believe her. As she sat down at the worn table, she watched her mother return to the stove and let out a sigh of relief. It was nice to see that not much had changed in her absence.

"So how is everyone?" Ginny asked. "I haven't heard much from Percy or Bill since the last time I was home."

"Oh," Molly said, turning as she flew a plate Ginny's way. "They're both fine. Percy's hours aren't quite as ridiculous now that he's working with your father, and Bill, Fleur and Vicky are here everyday."

Ginny tried not to laugh. "Vicky, Mum? I thought Fleur detested nicknames."

Molly's lips set in a thin line. As much as she'd taken to her daughter-in-law, this was one topic on which they could not agree.

"I refuse to call a six-month-old child Victoire. So yes. Vicky." She looked at Ginny as though expecting a challenge, but after years of experience, Ginny knew when to shut her mouth. Instead, she opened it to eat, a move which pleased Molly greatly, and she started to relax, taking a seat across from her daughter.

"So...," she began, unconsciously twisting her napkin. "Bill and Percy? Does that mean you did hear from...?" She trailed off, but Ginny knew what she wasn't saying, and she avoided her mother's eyes as she said, "Yes, I did. He's ok. I'm going to go to the shop tomorrow sometime, I think, to see him."

Molly continued worrying her napkin as she watched her daughter. After a moment, Ginny looked back at her and wished she hadn't. Her mother's eyes were pained, and she said softly, "I think he needs you. He... well, he's agreed to speak next week. He'll need help with it, though. Even though he says he won't. And you know no one else has a chance of getting anywhere near him with that."

Ginny nodded, looking down at her food once again, but now she'd lost her appetite.

"I know," she said quietly. A thought occurred to her from a letter she'd recently had from Ron. "Has the article ...?"

Molly shook her head. "Not yet. But there are only three days left until Hogwarts, so it will be there soon. I'm glad you're home for this, dear. I'm glad we're all back togeth..." Her voice choked up, and Ginny knew why she couldn't finish the word. They weren't all back together. They never really would be again. Her own eyes stung, but she refused to do this, and she blinked back the tears.

Neither of them spoke for a moment while Molly got herself back under control. Ginny forced a few more mouthfuls and then put down her fork.

"I'm going to drop my things in my room, and then I'm going to Grimmauld Place to see Harry, Ron and Hermione. It's ok if I stay there tonight, right, Mum?"

Molly looked very much as if she would like to say no, but she also knew how much Ginny needed Harry right now.

"Right," she said, clearing her throat and starting to clean up. "You and Hermione will be sharing a room, right?"

"Right," Ginny lied calmly.

Another silence and then she clambered up the stairs to her room, sighing with relief to have that conversation finished. She'd only just gotten back and already things were hard. She didn't want to think about how this was only the beginning.


	9. Ginny and Harry reunited

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Possibly the longest chapter I've ever written? I hope you all like it. We're slowly getting there.

Harry was in his room… well, what he still sometimes thought of as Sirius's room, when he heard the crack downstairs. He assumed it was Ron or Hermione as they were the only other people to apparate directly into the house, so he didn't bother going downstairs. He was reading the latest tribute article in the Prophet and trying desperately not to turn around to look at the picture of the Marauders on his wall.

He stared at the picture of Remus and Tonks as they waved back up at him and thought fleetingly how fitting it was that they should share this spotlight. Turning his eyes to the print, he clenched his jaw, determined to do this. He hadn't been reading many of the tributes, but he felt he owed this to one of his father's oldest friends no matter how hard it turned out to be.

_By now, many people know that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. What many people don't know, however, was that he was also an integral member of the Order of the __Phoenix__ from its inception. He was one of Albus Dumbledore's most trusted friends, and he was also an extremely important part of Harry Potter's life. Harry is the godfather of little Teddy Lupin, an honor normally bestowed upon one's own blood family… but that is exactly what Remus and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks, considered Harry Potter, and according to sources close to Harry, he clearly returned the sentiments. An orphan as young Teddy also is now, it is no secret that Remus often played a fatherly role in Harry's life, a role Harry undoubtedly hopes to play to Remus's now-orphaned son. _

The article continued, but Harry couldn't see it anymore. He couldn't see anything. The guilt he'd been fighting on and off for a year now was rising dangerously fast again, and it was clouding his eyes and choking his breath. He let the newspaper fall and was just sitting on the bed, breath coming in gasps, when he was suddenly aware of the door opening slowly. Panicking, he grabbed the newspaper again, holding it in front of his face.

"What do you want," he asked, his voice strangled. But there was no answer. Slowly… very slowly… he lowered the paper to see Ginny kneeling in front of him, her warm brown eyes concerned and full of the love he hadn't seen in over a month. It was all he needed to send him over the edge as the tears he'd just barely managed to hold down flooded to the surface. He let the paper fall again, but this time, Ginny was there. She took one look at the front of the paper and immediately understood. She wrapped her arms around Harry, holding on tightly until he was calmer, was able to speak.

He sat for a moment in embarrassed silence and then said wryly, "Well. Welcome home."

Ginny looked at him seriously. "Stop that," she told him flatly.

"Stop what?" Harry refused to meet her eyes, knowing full well what she was talking about.

"Being embarrassed about this. Seriously… just stop. If you weren't sad about this, then I wouldn't even want to know you, let alone be with you. What do you have to be ashamed of?"

Harry sighed. He hated fighting with Ginny when she was right, but he couldn't help the flush that was still covering his face. Trying to distract her, he said, "When did you get back?"

"This afternoon," she answered promptly. "And if Mum asks, Hermione and I are sharing the room we had when we all stayed here together two years ago. But don't change the subject. I want to know what on earth you think is embarrassing about missing these people? Should I be embarrassed for missing Fred?" Her voice wobbled when she said her brother's name, but she continued to look at Harry with that hard, blazing look he loved so much, and he knew he owed her this, especially if she were willing to use a name that had become so hard for all of them to say.

"Of course not," he said, hating that his own voice wavered. "It's just… I'm scared of going back to Hogwarts," he confessed, the words spilling out before he realized he was going to say them. "I don't know how it's going to feel to see all of those places again and remember what they looked like the last time we were there. And I don't know how I'm ever going to be able to talk about Remus and Tonks at the … at the thing. I can't even read an article about them without…" he trailed off and looked away, but Ginny took his hand and squeezed it tightly.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes and then Ginny said quietly, "No matter how hard it is… and Harry, I'm not saying it won't be… but no matter how hard it is, I'll be with you. You won't have to do this alone."

He nodded, but he couldn't meet her eyes. He was more grateful than he could ever express that they had found each other again, but it was hard to be separated so often, and they both wished they had more time together than the brief breaks Ginny's rigorous Quidditch schedule allowed. Still, he conceded, finally looking up into her face again, he'd take whatever minutes she had to spare for him.

"Come here," he whispered, opening his arms and then folding her tightly into them. He rested his chin on her head, mumbling, "I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I," Ginny said, sighing with relief. As much as the Burrow would always be the place she'd have to go to first, she was back where she belonged, and she couldn't have felt more at home.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It was just the two of them until Ron and Hermione came for dinner, having received Harry's owl about Ginny's return. Hermione arrived first, and the two friends threw their arms around each other, hugging each other tightly while simultaneously exclaiming over how much they'd missed each other. Harry smiled as he watched them. He was starting to relax again now that Ginny was back. As much as he supported her career, he missed her and couldn't help but feel as though all was right with the world when they were all finally back together.

They were waiting for Ron in the kitchen which, Hermione said to Ginny pointedly, was the first room he was bound to appear in when he came back from the joke shop. Ginny laughed.

"Of course it is. I never knew how Mum and Dad managed to feed and clothe all of us over the years, but Ron? I used to think he _tried_ to eat us out of the Burrow. It was like he thought Mum could conjure food out of thin air."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick amused look before a loud crack interrupted the rest of their conversation, and Ron was standing before them, soot on his face and robes but a smile on his face.

"Ginny!" he said, grabbing his little sister into a bigger hug than she expected. She felt as though she were back in the Burrow with her mother and mumbled, "Ow! Ron, geroff!"

He smiled sheepishly, releasing her. "Sorry, Gin. Just glad to see you."

She stared at him wonderingly. This really wasn't the Ron she was used to, and she couldn't help but question his sudden burst of affection.

"Well, I'm glad to see you too. Want to eat?"

She didn't even need to ask. As the four of them sat at the table, Kreacher came bustling in, happy to have a full table for a change.

Dinner was comfortable as they ate and talked their way through two hours before Hermione suddenly stifled a huge yawn.

"Sorry," she apologized to her friends. "It was a very long day today. I probably should go to bed because I have another huge day of research ahead of me tomorrow. See you all in the morning?" She stood up from the table as the other three nodded, and Ron said, "I'll be up in a minute, ok?"

She nodded as she made her way out of the room, hoping Harry would leave too and let them talk. She knew how much he hated letting Ginny out of his sight when she first got home, but she also knew how much Ron needed to talk to his sister alone.

Once she was gone, Ron smiled. "Don't let her fool you," he said to Ginny. "You know there's nothing that excites her more than a full day of research."

Ginny laughed, but she was also aware of the look in Ron's eyes as he stared at her that meant he wanted to talk to her alone. Thinking fast, she turned to Harry.

"Can you do me a favor?" she asked, hoping she wasn't being too obvious.

"Sure," he answered immediately.

"I left my things in the living room, and I'll need the trunk for the morning. Would you mind moving it up to the bedroom for me?"

She could have kicked herself for coming up with something she so clearly could have done on her own, but Harry didn't question it, and she wondered if maybe he sensed Ron's need for conversation as strongly as she did.

"Ok," he said, his eyes flickering over to Ron. "And I'll just wait for you in the room?"

And she knew he _had_ sensed Ron's need. Fortunately for both of them, Ron was so preoccupied that he didn't even notice the obvious implication that she and Harry would be sleeping in the same bedroom. It wasn't even like this was a new arrangement, but it was one that Ron had to readjust to each and every time Ginny came home. As tiresome as she found it, she also thought it was kind of sweet, so she knew something had to be serious for him to not even register Harry's comment.

Harry was gone moments later, and the two Weasleys sat in silence for a few minutes until she finally asked, "So how's the shop?"

Her voice was neutral, but Ron looked straight at her and said, "He's written to you, hasn't he."

It wasn't a question, and she met his gaze, nodding slowly.

"What did he tell you?" Ron asked, sighing but obviously hopeful that his sister would know enough to make this conversation easier.

"Just that you and he have had some… interesting conversations," she said carefully.

"Ginny, I need to know what he told you," Ron said quietly, but his voice was urgent. "There are things you need to know before you see him, but if he told you, then you already know that."

Now was Ginny's turn to look confused. "Well," she said slowly, "he just said that you've gotten into some arguments. He didn't tell me why, though. Ron…," and now she started to worry, "what's going on with him?"

Ron shook his head. "I should have known he wouldn't have told you."

He was silent for so long that Ginny felt a pit forming in her stomach. "Told me what? _Just tell me already!_"

Without looking directly at her, Ron recounted the conversation he'd witnessed George having with the picture, the invitation to sleep over, and the state of the room. By the time he'd finished with his idea for her to help George with the tribute for the memorial, Ginny's face was as white as Ron's had been when George had invited him to sleep in Fred's bed.

Ron let her sit in silence until he couldn't take it anymore. "You _will_ help him, right?"

She stared at him. "I don't even know if he'll talk to me. You really think he'll let me help him? I didn't know any of this, Ron, and I thought he was actually talking to _me_."

Ron shook his head in frustration. "Listen, I know it'll be hard. I'd help if I thought I could. But he won't talk to me about any of this… not really. Now that you're home, I don't think he could avoid talking to you. Maybe… maybe it was just easier for him to hide it since he was writing you letters?"

Ginny couldn't help looking surprised at his bit of insight from Ron, and he knew it.

"Why always the look of surprise?" he groaned, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Ok, ok. Point taken. I'll try. Ok? I'll try."

Ron felt more relieved than he had in weeks.

"I'm glad you're home, Gin," he whispered, standing and pulling her once more into a tight hug. This time, she didn't complain.


	10. The Prophet

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Is it weird that I was looking forward to writing the Harry/Ginny chapter, but when I was finished with it, I missed George? I think I'm getting attached to him… or to writing him, at least. And so… on to this one. Woohoo for long chapters! … even if they're sad ones. (I am apologizing in advance to ncis-lady, Dodger Gilmore, and KrystalB2003.)

When Ginny awoke on Saturday morning, she forgot for a moment where she was. Then she turned and saw Harry watching her with a bemused expression on his face, and she felt complete peace wash over her. She was home.

"Morning," she said sleepily, and he smiled, leaning over to kiss her nose.

"Morning yourself," he said.

They lay there in silence for a moment, but it wasn't an easy silence, and Ginny could feel Harry's unasked questions lying beside her. But she said nothing. She knew what was coming, and she had no problem waiting for it. No need to rush uncomfortable conversations.

After another few minutes of silence, Harry asked the question that had been on his mind since he'd woken up ten minutes earlier.

"Are you going to go today?"

She sighed, turning over to face him. "I don't think so," she said slowly. She registered his look of surprise and tried to explain. "I'm going to see him at my parents' house tomorrow night for dinner. I already told Mum I'd come for that. I'd rather… I'd rather talk to him there than at the shop."

Harry nodded, understanding. "I guess that makes sense. But don't you think it might be easier to talk to him without your parents around?"

A faint smile crossed her face. "Harry, I grew up with the twins. You really don't think George and I can avoid my parents if we want to?"

He smiled too, but it faded quickly. _The twins_… it reminded him that they still hadn't seen that day's Prophet, and with only two days left until Hogwarts, Fred's article was bound to be in there this day or the next. He didn't say anything to Ginny, though.

"Breakfast?" he asked, trying to inject a note of cheer into his voice. It fell flat, but Ginny merely nodded, and they got out of bed, got dressed, and made their way down to the kitchen. Hermione and Ron were nowhere to be found, but Kreacher appeared almost instantly, bowing to them and rushing off to make their food. Ginny marveled at the change that had come over this elf that used to call her Blood Traitor at any and every opportunity. It was small, but it was a measure of the change that had come over the world thanks to Harry's defeat of Voldemort. She smiled at Harry, but her smile faded when she saw the look on his face.

He had stopped at the front door to get the Prophet, and he was looking at it now. As much as he tried to keep his face neutral, Ginny knew that something was very, very wrong, and she felt a chill course down her spine. There was only one other picture that could make Harry look as miserable as he had when she'd found him staring at Remus and Tonks. Slowly, without speaking, she reached out her hand for the paper.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw her shaking hand, and he wished he could protect her from this, but he knew better than to try. But he didn't hand it to her. Instead, he got out of his own seat and came around to sit beside her so they could read together. Ginny wouldn't look into his face, but when he sat in the chair next to hers and held the paper before them, she leaned against him almost against her will. He wrapped an arm around her as he held the paper with his other hand, and they both stared into the grinning face of Ginny's older brother. Still without speaking, they both started to read.

_If anyone were to hear the name Fred Weasley by itself, it's quite possible he wouldn't know who the other person was talking about. Better known as the "Fred" of "Fred and George," Fred Weasley was one half of the team of the most notorious pranksters in Hogwarts history. One of the many sons of Arthur and Molly Weasley, he was one of the twins who is most well known for a daring escape during the years of Dolores Umbridge's now-infamous reign of terror. It is impossible for anyone to speak of Fred without a smile appearing on his face because Fred dedicated his life to making people laugh. And yet… it still seems odd to write merely Fred because he did not do this alone. According to many sources close to this family, Fred was really most himself when he was with his twin brother George, who now operates the shop he co-founded with Fred, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. (Their younger brother Ron now runs the business with George.) _

_As the many people who witnessed the fighting at Hogwarts attested, Fred died the only way he would have wanted to. He was fighting beside not only his brother Ron and Harry Potter, himself, but Percy Weasley, an officer at the Ministry, had apparently returned to the family after a long absence. As many eye witnesses reported, Fred had just been surprised and delighted by a rare joke made by the normally-serious Percy when the explosion occurred. As difficult as it must be for this very close family to come to terms with the loss of one of their most important members, it must bring some small measure of comfort that Fred had not only reconciled with Percy, but he died with a smile. It was the way he had lived, and it was the only way for him to die._

The article went on to describe Fred's childhood, but Harry was no longer reading. He was aware of Ginny's rigid body against him, and he pulled back to look at her. She was staring at the paper still, but he was willing to bet that she wasn't reading a word of it. Her expression was vacant, and her eyes were dry, but she was breathing heavily.

"Gin?" he asked hesitantly, pushing her hair out of her face. "Are you…?"

He trailed off as she turned to look at him, but her eyes retained their dull stare.

"I'm fine," she responded mechanically. She shrugged and dropped the paper on the table. "Let's go upstairs. I want to go to Diagon Alley and do some shopping today."

Harry looked at her, confused. "I thought you didn't want to talk to —," but Ginny cut him off impatiently.

"Did I say I wanted to talk to George? I just said I wanted to do some shopping. You can come or not. If you don't want to, I'll go alone."

Without another word, she stood and walked out of the room. Harry stared after her for a moment before following her. He couldn't remember ever being so confused by the girl he loved.

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Harry and Ginny left quietly, and Ron didn't wake until two hours after they'd gone. He found his solitary way to the kitchen, yawning as he glanced at the clock and realized Hermione would probably be back at any time. She had already gone to the ministry, but she'd claimed she'd only work a half day this Saturday and would be back in time for lunch.

Sitting alone at the table, he rubbed his eyes, yawning as he told Kreacher what he'd like for breakfast. Glancing down the table, he realized Harry had left the day's copy of the Prophet facedown in front of his own chair. He picked it up and flipped it over, but it was a moment before he registered what he was seeing – and then suddenly he wasn't seeing a newspaper at all.

Images of Hogwarts swam in front of his eyes, and he was being thrown with the force of an explosion, only regaining his bearings to realize that he was watching Percy cry for the first time and not having any idea why. And then he was staring at Fred's body, that grin eternally on his face, and he was trying to pull Percy to safety even as the tears ran down his own face. Then Percy was racing to finish Rookwood and Hermione had her arms wrapped around him as he tried to do the same, as he shook with sobs and rage and emotions he'd never thought he'd experience.

Hermione apparated into the kitchen, took one look at the Prophet and at Ron, and gasped, rushing forward to hold him against the nightmares that had now suddenly invaded the day time. It took a moment for Ron to realize that the Hermione now holding him wasn't the girl of a year ago, and he blinked as he crashed back into the present.

"You're home," he mumbled into her shoulder, vaguely noticing wetness on his face.

"Yes," she said, pulling back, her own eyes full. She glanced at his face and saw that he wasn't even aware of his own tears. She sniffled and swallowed hard. "So I guess you saw it?"

Ron looked at her blankly, and she gestured to the copy of the Prophet on the table, now with Fred's article face-up. He stared at it for a moment, then nodded.

"Didn't read it yet," he muttered, avoiding her eyes as he started to regain his composure. He glanced away from her and brushed quickly at his face, knowing that she'd seen the tears but hoping that she wouldn't say anything. Neither of them spoke for a minute and then Hermione said tremulously, "I though they did a nice job."

Ron glanced at the article once more and shrugged. "I'm sure it's fine," he said dismissively. Hermione stared at him for a moment. This was obviously not going to be a topic of conversation.

"Ok," she said slowly. She was torn for a moment and then she said quickly, "I just wanted to tell you that maybe you should check in on George later. His name's all over…" She trailed off when Ron shook his head.

"Ginny's home. She said she'd talk to him."

Hermione felt her temper rising, and she bit her lip, not wanting to sound as aggravated as she was starting to feel.

"Well, I hope she does. But I just don't think you should leave it all on her now that she's back. This can't be easy for her either…"

Ron shook his head but didn't answer. He'd turned the page of the Prophet to a new article and was now reading about the Chudley Cannons. Hermione sighed with exasperation. She'd have to talk to Harry about this later. It was obvious she wasn't going to get anywhere with Ron.

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George was in his room, but he wasn't sitting on his bed, and he wasn't inventing anything. He was on Fred's bed, and he had his face buried in his brother's pillow. As much as he'd known that what he'd told Ron was true… that nothing smelled like Fred anymore, that the smell had gone with everything else that had made his twin alive … he couldn't stop himself from trying.

The Prophet was on the floor next to the bed. He'd known the minute he'd seen it that he shouldn't read it. He did anyway. Now he couldn't do another thing. The only thought that occurred to him after he'd been lying there for what seemed like hours was one he'd never expected to have… why hadn't his parents or any of his siblings contacted him? It wasn't that he wanted to talk to anyone right now. In fact, he was pretty sure his voice wouldn't work properly no matter how hard he tried. But he was pretty sure someone should be checking on him. He rolled over and stared at the ceiling before finally getting out of the bed. If it were the day for unhealthy decisions, then this compulsion to visit the mirror fit nicely, he mused, as he walked over to it.

But once he looked at himself, his eyes filled with unexpected tears, and he rubbed his hands over his face, trying to erase them before they fell. No. He wanted to look at Fred right now, and Fred wouldn't cry.

It was no use, though. He stared miserably at the boy with one ear and red eyes until the vision blurred too much to see any more, and he stumbled back to the bed, once again shoving his face into the pillow that now smelled like nothing more than his own tears, and he closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat. He couldn't believe this, and he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone else, but … he was almost looking forward to dinner at the Burrow the next night. He suddenly felt more alone than he had in a year.


	11. Reunion at the Burrow

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Molly's back was to the door when Arthur walked in from the garden. He took one look at the thirteen pots on the stove and tried not to laugh.

"How much do you think George and Percy will eat?" he asked, coming up behind his wife and kissing her cheek. He sniffed at the delicious aromas wafting out of the pots, but when he reached for the lid, she swatted his hand away.

"I also invited Bill, Fleur, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry," she informed him, kissing him back and then turning her attention once again to the food. He studied her for a moment but said nothing. He would be happy to see his other children, but there had been something in his wife's voice that made him wonder if there were some other reason for the additional invitations.

Realizing he was hoping for an explanation, Molly sighed. "It's just… I want as many of us as possible to be together now. You saw the … the Prophet yesterday…" her voice trembled, and she stopped talking, her shoulders slumped. Arthur felt tears spring to his own eyes, and he reached for her, pulling her against him and dropping his chin onto her head.

They were both silent for a few minutes. It wasn't until one of the pots started whistling that Molly sniffled, cleared her throat, and straightened her shoulders. Arthur let go of her, and she turned back to her cooking. He wiped his own eyes and trudged up the stairs to their room, so he could change into his more comfortable Muggle clothes.

By the time he returned to the kitchen, they had both recovered themselves somewhat, and he sat at the table with the newest Prophet, somewhat relieved to see Dumbledore's face smiling calmly up at him. Even though he still felt Dumbledore's absence keenly, nothing could hurt as much as the picture of his son that had confronted him the day before.

"Who's on the cover today?" Molly asked. Her voice was quieter than usual, but she seemed calm, so he turned the page to show her the picture of Dumbledore.

"Oh," she said, a pleased expression on her face. "Well, I'm glad they realized that even though he didn't die in the Battle, he was also a victim of this war."

Arthur nodded his agreement. "Yes, and I'm sure they saved his for last because of the … the thing at Hogwarts tomorrow."

There was another silence as they both tried not to think of the day that was approaching at a much-too-rapid pace. Happily, this time, the silence was ended by a loud crack, and Percy was suddenly standing before them.

"Evening Mum, Dad," he said, flickering quick glances in each of their directions before heading directly for the stairs. "I'm going to go clean up before anyone else gets here."

He disappeared up the stairs, but Molly had seen his face, and she felt the familiar cloud of worry settle over her. She glanced at Arthur, but he was buried in the Prophet, so she sighed and turned back to her food. If all else failed, she'd have plenty of other people there tonight. If she didn't get to Percy, she was sure someone else would.

She wasn't wrong about the crowd in the house. By the time everyone (but George) had arrived, it almost felt like it used to when all of her children still lived at home. She had just begun to relax into the bustle, even starting to feel complete again, when George finally arrived. One look into his eyes took away every feeling of comfort that she'd begun to experience, and the now-familiar knot in her stomach started to tighten once again.

"Come on in, dear," she said, moving over to him where he'd stopped short. He wasn't even sure why. This was the house he'd grown up in, and all of a sudden, he felt like a stranger … a feeling he hadn't had in almost a year now. But he felt the overwhelming need to turn and run, not let himself be guided to a seat by his mother who had now taken his arm and was pulling him toward the recliner. He didn't run, though. He sat and looked around at the over-full living room, trying not to think about why they were all there. His mother hadn't told him that she was making this dinner into an impromptu family reunion, most likely aware that he would have found a reason not to come if he'd known.

The conversation went on around him, and he was perfectly content to let it. He tried not to let it hurt that Ginny was too caught up in the conversation to even notice his arrival. He wasn't successful. In an effort not to think about that, he continued to look around the room. Harry was watching Ginny, he noticed, but not in the same moony way he normally did. No, he looked worried, George realized, and he looked at his sister again. Maybe she wasn't oblivious to his arrival, he thought. Maybe she didn't know how to do this either. Another quick study of her face made him even more certain that this was a strong possibility, and he was surprised to find himself resolving to talk to her. It was odd for him to want to talk to anyone these days, but Ginny was different. She always had been, he acknowledged to himself. If there were anyone he and Fred felt comfortable entrusting their jokes to, it was their little sister.

That would have to come later, though. Right now, he was more than happy to just watch everyone and not say a word. Bill glanced over at him a few times, he knew, but he refused to meet his older brother's eyes. For some reason he could never figure out, Bill could always figure _him_ out. Always. But George didn't want to be figured out right now. He kept looking around. Fleur was caught up in talking to Ginny and Hermione with the occasional contribution from Ron and even Bill, when he stopped looking at George long enough to follow what his wife was saying. But… George realized with a jolt when he finally got to the last person in the room… Percy wasn't part of the conversation. He wasn't talking to their father either, who was sitting beside him on the couch. No, he was staring directly at George, and in his eyes, George found mirrored all of the pain and confusion he was suddenly feeling against his will. His eyes stung as they stared at each other, and he looked away. He didn't want this.

Without a word to anyone, he got up and found his way unsteadily out of the room and out into the garden. He'd thought for a moment of going up to his old room, but the last thing he could handle seeing right now was all of the pictures of the time he could never recapture. The past. If only he could go back to the past…

He kept walking. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't stop until he reached the top of the next hill, and then he was looking at the headstones in the distance, and he knew where he was going. It was the last place he thought he wanted to be, but his feet seemed to be carrying him there almost against his will.

He didn't know that he wasn't alone.

A/N: I'm not usually one for cliffhangers, but just this once…

I know it's not as long as the last couple, but I think this night at the Burrow will be a multi-chaptered deal. There's too much for just one chapter. The reviews keep me going, so keep 'em coming. Thanks for the endless encouragement. (I think I'm also subconsciously holding off on writing the actual one-year anniversary because I have to face one of those of my own tomorrow, and I somehow think I'll be able to write it more realistically once I experience the awfulness of it in real life... weird how life sometimes unfortunately mirrors fiction. I didn't even realize when I started writing this that the timing would be so eerie.)


	12. The graveyard

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I feel like these interactions need to each get their own. And this did NOT turn out like I expected. I hardly knew who was following George, myself, and it turned out not to be who I expected.

George's absence did not go unnoticed by anyone in the Burrow, but only one person decided to do something about it. He, too, slipped out of the room, and the rest of his siblings let out simultaneous and guilty sighs of relief when they realized they would not have to be the ones to go.

The conversation went on in the living room behind him as he left, and George's red hair came into view as he approached the hill. He picked up his pace, trying to reach George before he got to the graveyard. Even if he were pretty sure that this was not George's goal, he knew that was where he'd end up, and he was willing to do everything in his power to stop him before that could happen. He didn't want to go there either.

There was no hope for it, though. In spite of the fact that his own legs were longer, George was moving quickly in his haste to get away from his family, and he was at the headstone when he finally realized that someone was behind him. He didn't turn around, though. Whoever it was had to be family, and he was just suddenly so tired. He couldn't hide anymore. He couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. He was here, and it did. It hurt so much.

He didn't look behind him, but he spoke to Fred, not caring what anyone thought anymore.

"Tomorrow's the anniversary of the battle, mate," he said, his voice rough. "We're all going back to Hogwarts for this… thing. Well, ok. I'll say it. It's a memorial. It's not a word I've wanted to use, though. It means you're gone. And trust me." He laughed bitterly, but it sounded an awful lot like a sob to him, and he took a deep breath before he continued. "Trust me. I know you're gone. We all know it. But … I don't want to know it. I want to hear your voice again. I want…" His mouth worked but nothing more came. He wanted the tears to not be rolling down his face. He wanted to be able to continue. He wanted his legs to hold him up. He wanted his twin brother back. He didn't get any of those things as he sank to his knees in front of his brother's grave, weeping uncontrollably for the first time in a year.

He didn't flinch when he felt strong arms wrapping around him, and he looked into his older brother's scarred face as he crouched beside him.

"I knew it was you," he said his voice shaking, and he looked back down again. He suddenly couldn't look at Bill anymore because Bill wasn't supposed to look like this.

Neither of them spoke, and George tried to reign in his sobs without much success. It wasn't until a few minutes later that he realized that he wasn't the only one shaking them. He took some deep, gasping breaths and finally forced himself to look at his brother.

Bill's face was twisted in every attempt at self-control, but he was failing miserably. He turned his face away when he realized George was looking at him, but it was too late, he realized, as George pushed himself out of his slump and pulled Bill into a strong hug of his own. He held on until Bill was taking his own deep breaths, and then he let his arms drop, turning his attention back to the grave.

There was silence as they both studied the inscription, and George reached over to touch the letters t-w-i-n. Bill said nothing as he watched this, and then George spoke again.

"It's going to get easier, right?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "It has to, doesn't it?"

Bill didn't answer for a moment, and George felt a surge of panic. He didn't know why he needed Bill to say yes so badly, but he did.

"I think that tomorrow will be bad," Bill finally said. He paused. "But I think it _can_ get easier after that. But… you really have to want it to. You know? You have to feel like it's ok to feel better."

Now was George's turn for silence. How did Bill always know?

They didn't even look at one another as they both got to their feet. They were halfway back to the Burrow when Bill muttered something that George didn't want to admit he heard. Bill knew it, though, and he turned to George, grabbing his arm to stop him before he went back into the house.

"You do, you know. You have to talk to him. Before tomorrow, preferably."

George just looked at Bill but didn't say a word. This had been hard enough. But Percy? That was almost asking the impossible.


	13. I thought he was back in the family

Disclaimer: I will NEVER own Harry Potter. I've accepted that. (Somewhat.)

They approached the Burrow, and their feet seemed to slow as they reached the door. Looking at each other, Bill knew George was worried about rejoining the group with his red eyes, and he felt the same way.

"Hang on," he said quietly, pulling out his wand. Waving it in his brother's general direction, he mumbled a word George didn't catch, and his younger brother immediately felt his face cool down, and his breathing eased. While George gaped in amazement, Bill did the same to himself, and as George watched, Bill's eyes and nose lost their redness almost as if the color were draining off him. George stared at him in surprise.

"I need to know that spell," he muttered as they were readying themselves to walk back in, but to his surprise, Bill shook his head.

"No."

George stopped and looked at him. He'd been almost joking … well, not really… it'd be dead useful given the year he'd been having… but Bill's serious tone took him by surprise.

"Why not?" He was surprised by the edge to his own voice, but Bill wasn't.

"Because it's not a good idea to hide how you're feeling." As George started to protest, Bill held up his hand. "I've never used it on myself before. I only used it now because we're all bound to be in bad enough shape tomorrow. It's not worth upsetting Mum so early."

The protest died on George's lips. He knew his brother was right even though he wouldn't say as much. Without another word, but devoutly grateful for the secret spell, he pushed the door open and made his way back into the house. Everyone was now in the kitchen, and there was a seat next to Ron and a seat next to Fleur, into which he and Bill slid. No one commented on their absence although George was fairly sure he heard his mother's quick intake of breath, but the conversation went on as if nothing had changed.

Ginny was regaling the family with stories of her Quidditch practices, and although the enthusiasm was dim, the Weasleys forged ahead, pretending that this was all they cared about.

"You should have seen our seeker try the Wronski Feint. We weren't sure she'd be able to play for the rest of this season, but luckily, our mediwitch stopped the bleeding pretty quickly. I don't think she'll be trying that again any time soon."

This led to an intense discussion about Quidditch, and even George found that he was able to join in. It was great to have a completely safe topic, he thought, as he argued with Ron about which player had the most important role on the team. They were so caught up in their argument of Keeper vs. Beaters that they barely noticed their mother cleaning up around them, and Molly smiled as she saw that George actually seemed interested in something for the first time in a year. She was well aware that he was trying to be interested in this, so he wouldn't have to think about anything else, but she was willing to accept that.

They moved from the table back into the living room, still arguing, and George would have been perfectly content to let the fight go on all night when Arthur finally interrupted the good natured bickering.

"Listen, everyone," he said quietly, but the seriousness in his voice brought all conversations to a dead halt. "Your mother and I want to know who wants to sleep here tonight. We're leaving for Hogsmeade at 9am, but we don't all have to go together. Let's do it this way. Raise your hand if you want to go with us."

No one looked at each other, but Arthur watched as every hand rose in the air and every face looked at the ground. Every hand except one. Percy was still looking at him, and his hands were firmly by his sides. Arthur didn't say a word. He couldn't. And it was his silence that made the rest of his children raise their heads in time to see the back of Percy's robes flapping up the stairs.

"I thought he was back in the family," Ron said faintly after a moment in which it seemed like no one would ever speak again. No one replied. It seemed as if the ability to speak had gone with Percy.

George felt Bill's eyes on him, but he refused to look at him. He knew he should talk to Percy. Of course he _should_. But he couldn't.

No one moved until Arthur got up and left the house. He was going to his garage, his refuge more than ever these days, and it was his movement that released the rest of them, and they mumbled their goodnights to Molly as they found their way up the stairs to their old bedrooms. She watched them go, and she felt the tears fill her eyes. This had gone better than she could have expected – excluding what she knew had to have been a hard moment for Bill and George – but the world seemed to be closing in on her yet again. How was she ever going to get Percy to do what she knew he needed to?

* * *

George stopped in front of his bedroom. He might have gotten used to living alone over the shop, but he wasn't relishing going inside this room that he and Fred had shared since birth. He hadn't been in here since he'd moved back to Diagon Alley, and he felt the same pit in his stomach that usually meant tears were imminent. He knew he had to go in if he didn't want anyone else helping him. And he didn't. As much as he was almost glad Bill had cared enough to come after him, he knew he should do this by himself. He should be used to doing things by himself by now, shouldn't he? 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he put his hand on the doorknob and pushed open the door. Suddenly, he couldn't see too much, and he tripped over a box in his haste to get to his bed. He fell across the bed and hoped he'd shut the door behind him because there was no holding down these tears. As much as the bed over the shop no longer smelled like Fred… he almost thought there was a lingering smell of him in here, and it caused the lump in his throat to dissolve faster than an ice cube on a hot summer day.

He shoved his face into his pillow, wondering if this would _ever_ get easier, when he heard a sound that made him freeze. It was a sniffle to match his own. And it was coming from Fred's bed.

A/N: Ok, I lied. Another cliffhanger. They seem to work well with these chapters. Don't worry. You know the next update won't be too far behind. Thanks for all of the support. It really inspires me to keep going as fast as I can. (And woooo for this being longer than the last chapter!)


	14. George and Ginny

Disclaimer: Will never own HP.

George lay frozen. Someone else was in this room? But… why was he so surprised? This room had never been just his, and it really never would be. But… on Fred's bed? Then the choked voice spoke.

"I did know when you came in. It just… it hurts to look at you."

The words were somewhat muffled, but George understood each one, and his eyes filled again. Ginny. The only person he thought might hurt almost as much as he did. He didn't look up, though. He couldn't. He knew she probably hadn't meant to hurt him more, but her words did. They hurt.

He didn't answer her, and after a moment, he heard footsteps, and then she was sitting on the side of his own bed. He was afraid she would touch him. If she did, he knew he'd lose his very shaky battle against more tears, but she just whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be here for you. I know that."

Now he did turn over in surprise. He stared at his little sister who may have been sitting beside him but was not making any effort to look at him. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes were red, and he felt his throat tighten. "No," he said. It was all he said, but it did the trick. Slowly, Ginny turned to him, and she looked at him, really looked at him, and he realized he didn't remember the last time she'd done that.

Her lips were trembling, but her voice was stronger and more like her own when she finally said, "Don't 'no' me. Why not?"

George shook his head. "I'm your older brother. I'm supposed to be there for _you_."

There was another silence, and George knew he'd said something stupid. Or at least something Ginny would think of as stupid. But he didn't want to fight now. He couldn't. Sighing, he turned back over, avoiding her eyes. This was too hard.

He was waiting for her to leave. They both knew that. But she'd started to calm down, and she realized that this might be her only chance to do what everyone seemed to think she needed to. She didn't move.

George stared at the wall, wondering when Ginny was just going to give up and leave him alone. He wasn't going to talk. Or cry. He'd already done enough of that with Bill. He was done. But … her words suddenly came echoing back to him.

_It hurts to look at you_. He knew how that felt. It was the same thing he thought every time he looked in the mirror. He tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in his throat, and he hoped Ginny hadn't heard even though he knew she had. Because then her hand was on his shoulder, and he lost the battle before he ever really got the chance to put up a fight.

He curled into a ball, knowing she could feel his shoulder shaking, but he couldn't seem to make it stop. He didn't know why, either. After months of feeling nothing, all of a sudden, he was feeling everything again, and he didn't want to. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice, though.

Ginny squeezed his shoulder more tightly. Her own eyes were full of tears as she stared down at her brother's curled form, and she finally whispered, "I miss him so much." She knew she was making it harder, and she knew it was the last thing she should do, but watching George – her older brother, the eternally laughing twin – sobbing like this made everything more real than anything else had done.

She watched through blurry eyes as he slowly he turned over on the bed and forced himself into a sitting position. He wasn't looking at her, but she threw herself into his arms without even realizing what she was doing. Startled out of his own tears, George instinctively wrapped his arms around her, and she began crying into his shirt.

"I'm sorry I said that before," she choked. "I'm sorry it's hard to look at you. You know how …" she trailed off, but George was so glad he'd stopped crying and that she'd stopped looking at him that he found himself encouraging her to continue.

"I know how what?" he asked. His voice was huskier than usual, but he was proud of himself for keeping it steady. This was the way it was supposed to be, he thought as he hugged Ginny to him. He should be comforting her, not the other way around.

She didn't know if she should continue now that George seemed calmer, but he wanted to know. She took a deep breath.

"You know how I was the only one who could ever really tell you apart? I mean, even more than Mum?"

George nodded, knowing she'd feel the movement since she was still huddled against him. She swallowed hard and went on.

"When Snape blasted off your ear, it was awful. I mean Mum was so scared, but Fred…" She trailed off again, and George swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

"I know he was scared," he managed to whisper. "I saw his face when I came to…"

Ginny nodded, but she said, "But you made that joke, and everything seemed like it would be fine. But… well, do you remember what happened later that night? After we all went to bed?"

George thought now. What was she talking about? What could have… and then some small snippet of memory came back, and he said slowly, "Fred couldn't sleep."

Ginny was quiet for a moment, and George wondered how she even knew this. But then she spoke again. "He couldn't. Hermione was in my room that night, but she was sleeping, and then I heard a knocking on my door. I was still awake just thinking, and I got up to answer. It was … it was Fred." She stopped speaking again, and George knew she was fighting tears even though he couldn't see her face, and he held her even more tightly. But he needed her to continue.

"What happened?" he finally asked. Ginny's voice sounded far away as she described a missing part of a night that he'd tried not to remember even though he knew he'd never forget...

* * *

_When Ginny opened the door, she was surprised to see Fred standing on the landing. He was in a t-shirt and boxer shorts; his hair was sticking out every which way, and he was shifting from one foot to the other. Nothing about this was unusual. But he wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked positively miserable._

"_What is it?" Ginny asked, alarmed. Fred was never serious. "Has George started bleeding again? Is he ok?"_

_Fred put out a hand to calm her. "He's ok. I just… can we talk somewhere?"_

_Now she was really confused, but she nodded. "Let's go to the living room," she said, closing the door behind her. "Hermione's asleep in there."_

_Fred followed his little sister down the stairs, and she led him to the couch, wrapping herself in one of the blankets her mother kept slung across the back. Fred took another and did the same. Once they were both settled, Ginny looked at him apprehensively. Even though he'd said George was fine, it was clear he wasn't. She couldn't imagine what was going on, but she knew to wait. He'd need to talk first. _

_Fred sighed and stared down at the sofa. Finally, when she thought he was never going to say a word, the dam burst. "Gin, I'd never been more scared in my life than when they brought him in like that." His voice shook, and she very slowly reached out her hand. He grasped it tightly but still didn't look at her as the words continued to pour out of him. "Did you see his head? He was covered in blood. I thought… I thought…" He couldn't go on, and she knew why. It had been a terrifying moment for all of them, but Fred thought he'd lost his other half. She still didn't speak as Fred's shaky sighs filled the quiet room. Neither of them looked at each other, but he didn't release his grip on her hand. Finally, he whispered, "I don't know what I would do if we'd lost him. When I thought we had…" And the tears finally came. _

_Pushing herself closer to her older brother, she reached for him, and he buried his face in her hair, shaking slightly with the sobs he didn't even understand. George was fine. Why was he crying?_

_"Because it's scary," Ginny mumbled, and Fred realized he's said those last thoughts aloud. "Because you know in a war, anything can happen. Because he's fine because he's lucky. It won't always have to be fine."_

_Fred nodded, but his breathing was still shaky._

"_Also because… we're not identical anymore," he said and then wanted to kick himself. He sounded like a four year old. She tried not to gasp, but his words had taken her by surprise._

"_What are you talking about?" she asked gently, knowing that this was a big part of Fred's very unexpected outburst. _

"_His ear," he whispered into hers. "Everyone will be able to tell us apart now. Not just you."_

_She tried not to smile. "Well, it's not like you're still trying to play switches on Mum. Does it really matter that much at this point?"_

_There was a silence. Then Fred muttered, "It sounds dumb. I know. But that's who we are, Gin. You know that. We're each other. If we don't look like each other…" He had to stop talking. He was sounding more and more stupid to himself. But then Ginny spoke, and he knew why she was the person he knew he should find tonight._

"_First of all… you still have the same face. But more importantly, you're still a part of each other. The ear thing… well, yeah, it makes you identifiable. But are you going to tell me that people won't still know that you're each half of a whole?"_

_Fred's breathing started to ease. He cleared his throat and finally let go of his sister. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to erase the evidence, as Ginny watched him silently. When he finally stopped, he looked at her._

"_Thanks, Ginny." _

_She nodded. "I knew you were scared," she said softly. "We all were. But the important thing is that he's ok, right?"_

_He let out an explosive breath. "Oh yeah," he said vehemently. "I don't even want to imagine…" he trailed off. _

_After another moment of silence, they both shook their heads to rid them of the morbid thoughts that had occurred to both of them. "Come on," she said. "Let's go back up."_

_They made their way back up the crooked stairs and stopped once again in front of Ginny's room. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Fred grabbed her into a tight hug._

"_Thanks," he whispered in her ear, "but tell anyone about this, and you'll find frogs in your bed for a week."_

"_I won't," she whispered back, "but try it, and you'll wish you had hair this lovely flaming red color… you'll wish you had hair at all."_

_Fred burst out laughing and released her. "We've taught you well. Night, Gin."_

"_Night," she said, laughing as she let herself back into her room. _

* * *

She and George sat in silence, and she felt calmer than she had in days. Maybe it was because she'd found another memory, but she felt less lost than she had when she'd come into the room. But George let out a shaky breath that reminded Ginny of the ones she'd heard from his twin not all that long ago, and she knew this was far from over. 

"But I _was_ fine," George choked. "He wasn't. It's … it's not fair," he finally said, and the truth of those words hit him squarely in the chest. That's what it was. It wasn't fair. If he could be lucky, then Fred should be too. And it was with this simple knowledge that the tears came again. And maybe it was because of the story, and maybe it was because he knew Fred had cried on her shoulder too, but this time, George didn't try to hide from Ginny. And when she wrapped her arms around him, he just put his face into her shoulder, and he broke.

A/N: I'm sorry for not ending this on a higher note. This chapter took me for a ride too. It made me so sad to write, and it turned out not at all like I thought it would. Surprise to those of you who thought this would be Percy. I've had other plans for him all along, though. Don't worry. He'll be here very soon. (And by the way… holy long chapter, batman.)


	15. Arrival at Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it.

None of the Weasleys looked particularly awake when they all convened in the living room the next morning. Molly was trying to entice them with the suggestion of breakfast, but even her offers were weak and half-hearted… not at all like the admonishments they'd come to expect from the eternally worrying mother. Under the cover of her repeated offers, however, she kept glancing at George. He was white and tired-looking, and his eyes were bloodshot. It was the worst she'd seen him look in a year, and she had some idea of the kind of night he'd had. She'd passed by the twins' bedroom while Ginny was in there, and she'd heard George's choked sobs and Ginny's soothing voice. It had taken all of her willpower not to go in, but she knew they had all they needed in each other.

Right now, she was more worried about Percy. He hadn't come downstairs, and he wasn't answering his door. And it was 9:30. She and Arthur looked at each other, and he shook his head slightly. She sighed, and Ron turned to look at her. His eyes were wide and almost… frightened. She knew Arthur was right. If Percy didn't want to go, that would have to be his choice. Right now, she knew her other children needed her.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked.

Everyone nodded, and she tried not to notice how tightly Bill was grasping Fleur's hand. Or how Ron was holding onto Hermione like she was a life preserver. Or how Harry had his arm around Ginny, looking as if he'd fall over if she moved so much as an inch. Or how George… she swallowed hard. He was alone. And he looked like he felt every inch of it. He felt her eyes on him, and he tried to smile at her, but his face wouldn't cooperate, and he settled for a halfhearted wink. She gave him a watery smile, and then she said as briskly as she could manage, "Let's go."

No one asked where Percy was or why he wasn't with them. Once they arrived in Hogsmeade, however, and had started their walk up to Hogwarts, Bill finally let go of Fleur and pulled George back so the rest of the family was walking ahead of them.

"Don't," George said in a low voice before Bill could open his mouth.

Bill looked at him, surprised, but he forged ahead anyway.

"He should be here with us," he said, his voice low but insistent, and George nodded.

"I know. But I couldn't do it. Not last night."

Again, Bill glanced at his younger brother. This was probably not the right day or place to be giving him a hard time. He sighed.

"Ok," he said simply, and they walked side by side in silence until George said quietly, "I don't know how I'm going to do this today."

Bill turned to look at him again. They were almost at the gates, and their parents and siblings had gotten so far ahead of them that they were already on the grounds, talking to Hagrid. He put out a hand to stop George, and the brothers moved off to the side of the road. George was staring at the ground, and Bill watched him, wondering if he were going to say anything else. He was about to give up and start walking again when George mumbled, "I'm scared, Bill."

He still wouldn't look at his older brother, but Bill could see George's red ear, the telltale Weasley sign of embarrassment, and he gripped his shoulder.

"We all are," he said softly, glancing up to make sure none of the people passing them could hear him.

George glanced up quickly, and Bill nodded at him, trying to convince him.

"We'll all be together, though," Bill continued, trying to reassure George, but having a strong sense that this was impossible. There was a lot more to George's fear than he was saying, and Bill tried to hold his gaze to see if he could get it out of him.

"_You_ will," George muttered, and Bill had a flash of understanding.

"I promise," he said, suddenly finding it hard to keep his voice steady, and he swallowed hard. "I promise," he started again, "to stay with you at the memorial. Ok?"

George mumbled something that Bill missed, but now the street was empty again, so they started walking slowly.

"What?" he asked, and George repeated, "What about Fleur?"

"She'll be with us too, obviously, but I promise I'll be with you."

George nodded. They didn't speak again until their family was in sight, and as they approached them, George whispered something that sounded a lot like thanks. Bill didn't respond. He was suddenly very aware of just how alone George was. It wasn't that he didn't have a wife or a girlfriend. He was surrounded by his family. But he _used_ to have a counterpart, and now… well, they were here to commemorate why he didn't anymore. No wonder he didn't have the energy to deal with Percy, Bill realized. He was amazed he had enough courage to come here himself.

A/N: Sorry for the shorter one but I needed the transition to get them to Hogwarts. I wanted to save the very important stuff for its own chapter(s). There's still the Great Hall to be seen, the tour of the school, and the 'thing' itself, so there's a lot more. And of course… Percy. It'll all come together. I promise. Oh! And yes, I went back and named all of the chapters. It was driving me crazy not to remember what happened in each one. I hope they work.


	16. Charlie's need

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I never ever will.

As George and Bill walked up to the rest of their family at the door to Hagrid's hut, George wasn't surprised to see their mother cast Bill a quick, worried glance, nor was he surprised to see his older brother's quick nod of assent. It figured she wouldn't ask _him_ if he were ok. He was starting to get used to people checking up on him through other sources. He didn't like it, necessarily, but he supposed it was better than having her ask him if he were all right about 80 times an hour.

After he greeted George and Bill, Hagrid quickly disappeared back into his hut, and George wasn't dumb enough not to know why. Ginny wasn't the only person who hurt looking at him. He'd seen the poorly-disguised tears in Hagrid's eyes, and he had to close his own for a moment as he suddenly saw what this day would be like… all of those people whose minds Fred had flitted through over the past 12 months seeing him and then… not wanting to see him at all. Not for the first time in that minute he wondered how he was ever going to do this.

But then he opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to be alone. Bill had promised… and as crazy as his older-brother-ness sometimes made him, he knew he'd meant every word. But suddenly, he realized that Bill had frozen beside him. He looked around but couldn't see any immediate reason for this. He looked at him questioningly and saw that he was staring into the nearest window of the hut. George looked there as well, and what he saw took his breath away too.

It was Charlie. He'd said he would meet them at Hagrid's, but in all of the emotions of the past few minutes, George had completely forgotten. And now he was looking through the window to his older brother, and he was just as stunned as Bill to see the tears running down his face as he watched all of them in the garden. But George could tell from the reasonably normal conversation going on behind him that no one else had seen, and he and Bill glanced at each other with equal looks of misery.

"I'll go in," Bill mumbled. "Will you get the rest of them up the hill?"

George nodded, but when he looked at the rest of his family, the words got stuck in his throat for a moment. He wondered for the thousandth time how he would ever be able to talk at the service, and he decided now was as good a time as any to make use of his voice again.

"Come on, everyone," he tried to call, and if his voice sounded weaker than it normally did, no one said a word, just turned in surprise to hear it. He took advantage of this, and he motioned for everyone to keep moving. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny complied, but his parents and Fleur hesitated.

"But… where eez Bill?" Fleur asked, concern evident in her voice, as Molly said, "But aren't we supposed to meet Charlie here?"

George didn't answer either of them, but he hoped the look on his face would be answer enough. And for some reason he couldn't explain, it was. He didn't know that the sadness he had seen in Charlie's eyes were now mirrored in his own, and both his mother and his sister-in-law saw this and realized that he was motioning them up the hill for a reason.

Without another word, they all turned to go, and George glanced back once as Bill slipped inside the door, wishing briefly he could stay back with him. Hogwarts was the last place he wanted to be, and … in spite of the fact that he knew Ginny cared, that he knew she was more in tune with his feelings than just about anyone else … he wanted his older brother. Well, no, he thought to himself as he brought up the rear, making sure his mother didn't try to slip back down to see what was happening with Bill. He wanted his twin brother. But Bill would have to do

* * *

Being the oldest of seven… no, six, he though with a lump in his throat … meant he had to do a lot. Bill sighed as he slipped into Hagrid's hut, hoping that this would be easier than it looked. It wasn't. 

Charlie was sitting in the corner by the same window, oblivious to the fact that Bill had entered the room. Hagrid looked up from the other corner where he had buried his face in a flowered handkerchief, but he said nothing, just watched as Bill quietly walked over to his younger brother.

Bill stared at Charlie's shaking shoulders for a moment before tentatively putting his hand on one of them. Charlie froze. He knew the hand wasn't Hagrid's, or it would have brought him to his knees. He quickly wiped at his face before turning around, trying to make it look like he was just stretching but knowing he was fooling no one. And when he finally did turn and saw Bill standing there, his brother's eyes filled with all of the pain that he was trying to deny, he felt his eyes fill again.

"I don't know where it happened," he whispered, looking up into Bill's scarred face. Bill stared at him, wondering for a moment what he meant and then realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

He swallowed again, but he felt that awful pain in the back of his throat and wondered if he should tell Charlie that he _did_ know. He took one look into his brother's eyes and knew he had to.

"I'll show you," he said, his voice sounding strange in his own ears. He knew Charlie could hear it too, but he said nothing, just nodded.

"I'm ready to go up there," he finally said, his voice low, and Bill nodded. They walked to the door together and then turned to Hagrid, who was still sitting in the corner. His own eyes were once again filled with tears, and when the Weasley brothers said goodbye to him, he blew his nose noisily and nodded. He couldn't speak.

They were almost at the castle when Bill said quietly, "Percy didn't come with us."

Charlie had started to calm down, but now he stopped walking and turned to Bill, a look of shock on his face.

"He _what_?" he asked, and Bill was surprised to hear anger in his voice too.

"Well, he's been pretty upset lately," he tried to explain, but Charlie motioned that aside impatiently.

"We've _all_ been pretty upset lately, Bill," he snapped. "I saw George's face, and _he's_ here. Percy…" he stopped talking for a moment, and Bill thought he was finished, but then he said, "Percy needs to be here. He did enough damage to this family. It'll kill Mum if we're not all together today."

Bill sighed. "I know. But there was no talking to him this morning. I tried to get George to talk to him last night but he… he had a hard enough night of his own."

Charlie nodded, understanding written all over his face. "It's hard, you know," he mumbled, as they started walking again. He didn't look at Bill, but he continued, "looking at him. It's like…" He trailed off again, but this time Bill knew he wasn't going to finish this sentence.

"I know," he whispered. They didn't speak again as they neared the doors, but as they walked in Charlie mumbled, "Just tell me where it is, ok? I kind of… I want to go on my own."

Bill nodded. He understood as much as he wished he didn't. He didn't feel any desire of his own to go back to the place where their whole world had changed, but he kept forgetting that Charlie hadn't gotten to the battle in time to fight. He'd shown up at the end. He knew his brother's guilt. He just wished there were some other way to relieve it.

As they walked through the doors and glanced toward the Great Hall, where they knew they'd find the rest of their family, Charlie said, "Tell me now? I'll go, and then I'll meet up with the rest of you at the memorial. I know where that is."

"Ok," Bill sighed. He gave the best directions he could, hoping none of the staircases would move, and Charlie set off on his own. Bill took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and moved off to the one room that had been haunting his dreams for the past year.

A/N: Next chapter will catch up with how the rest of them fared as they reentered Hogwarts. Not to worry. And Charlie will definitely get his own chapter. He's off for an interesting time of his own right now. (And yay for not lying and making this longer than the last one.) Oh, was it also really obvious that I REALLY didn't want to write Hagrid's voice? I just know I couldn't get that right hence the avoidance techniques.


	17. The Great Hall

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Harry tried not to look at anyone else as he entered Hogwarts with the Weasleys for the first time in a year. Ginny was at his side, her warm hand comfortingly in his, but he wished he could let go of it without hurting her. He wished, for the first time, that he were by himself. He knew moments like these were supposed to be easier when you had people with you, but he had a desire for solitude that was almost overwhelming. He glanced down at Ginny, wondering if she'd understand. He had to try.

"Is it ok if I take a minute?" he muttered in her ear, not wanting anyone else to hear. She looked up at him in surprise.

"You want to wait? I'll wait with you," she said softly, and he felt his heart sink. He tried to think of something that would convince her that she should go in ahead of him, and then he had it.

"No, I'll be fine. But George looks like he needs someone to be with him. Go with him, ok? I'll be right behind you."

She gave him a measured stare, and he knew he hadn't fooled her, but he had also underestimated her capacity for understanding.

"Ok," she said, and with one more glance in his direction, she walked up to her older brother and put her hand in his.

George looked down at her in surprise, but then his expression relaxed, and Ginny realized that Harry might not have been far off. George looked… relieved. Maybe he did need someone to be at his side. Then she realized that they were at Hogwarts because that was what George no longer had – someone by his side – and she felt the lump in her throat again. She squeezed his hand, suddenly glad to be there.

Harry slipped away, unnoticed, before the Weasleys entered the Great Hall, and he found himself by the closet into which he, Ron, and Hermione had led Crabbe and Goyle in their second year when they'd used the Polyjuice Potion to get into the Slytherin Common Room. He took a quick look around and then, seeing no one, slipped inside. It was dark and smelled musty, but there was no one to look at him or whisper about him, and that was the only thing he needed right now.

He crouched down and put his head in his hands, his legs shaking. Why was this so hard, he wondered? Why were the Weasleys able to do this, while the thought of entering the Great Hall sent shivers down his spine and put a lump in his throat? The Great Hall... it was the room in which he'd been sorted into Gryffindor… in which he'd seen Hagrid return from Azkaban … in which he'd eaten countless meals and studied for countless exams… but now all he could see were the lifeless faces of Remus, Tonks, Fred, and so many others who had died unnecessarily – who had died for him. Before he even realized he was crying, the tears were puddling in his hands, and he knew that if he didn't get himself under control – and fast – someone would hear him and come see who was sobbing in the broom closet. The thought of someone finding him, the Boy Who Lived, crouched in tears in the corner was enough to force his breathing under control and after a moment of fevered scrubbing at his face, he put his glasses back on, took a deep breath, and prepared himself to walk into the Great Hall. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

George was not ready. Even though his little sister was by his side, and he knew his older brother wasn't far behind, he didn't have the one person he needed. And now he was about to go to the room where he'd discovered that he'd never have that person again. He swallowed hard. He needed to be able to do this and stay in one piece. This was Hogwarts. Even though he wasn't there as a student… (or as a Weasley twin, the thought came unbidden, causing him to swallow hard again) … being at the school meant that he had a reputation to uphold. It was what everyone would expect. Hell… it was what _Fred_ would expect. And that was the last person he wanted to let down.

The family entered slowly. Molly and Arthur were in the lead with Fleur. Ron and Hermione were behind them, and George and Ginny trailed along slowly at the end of the group. He somehow knew that Ginny was dreading this as much as he was, and he remembered her as she looked that day, red, tear soaked, anguished. His own eyes stung from the memory, and his grip on her hand tightened. He suddenly realized that he didn't know where Harry was, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was just glad someone was there to hold his hand right now because he thought he might fall down if he had to do this alone, and that would _certainly_ ruin his image. (But it was already ruined, a voice in his head insisted. He couldn't have his usual Hogwarts image if he were only one...)

The Hall looked nothing like it had that day. How could he have expected it to? (But somehow... it should, that same voice whispered.) There were no bodies, of course, and the tables were back in their original formation with the house colors hanging in banners from the walls. The Weasleys made their way to the Gryffindor table automatically, all of them having spent their school years there, and it was only once they sat down that George realized that Bill had rejoined them… but he was alone. He looked at him questioningly, and Bill dropped into the seat beside his, whispering, "he wanted to … to go to the place. He wanted to do it alone. He'll catch up with us at the memorial," he concluded, and George suddenly saw, for the first time, that Bill looked just as miserable as the rest of them. Without even realizing what he was doing, he let go of Ginny's hand and said to Bill, "Come with me."

Surprised by George's sudden assertiveness, Bill complied immediately, and the brothers stood up and walked out of the hall, leaving behind the questioning looks on the faces of the rest of their family members. It was only when they'd left the Hall and were standing in the entryway to the castle that George finally turned to look at him.

Bill didn't even realize why George had pulled him out of the Hall, but he did know that he was suddenly fighting the lump in his throat with all his might, and he knew that talking to George right now wouldn't help. He couldn't think of how to avoid this, though, so he resolved to keep this conversation as short as possible.

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly. He didn't expect the compassion in George's voice as he looked him directly in the eye.

"I want … I want you to know that I … I know this is hard for you too," George somehow managed to say, and Bill blinked hard, his eyes suddenly stinging.

"Thanks," he managed to croak, ready to go back in, but George wasn't finished talking.

"I hope Fleur listens to you," he went on, "because I know that you'd rather let the rest of us talk."

Bill nodded, afraid of what his voice would sound like if he tried to answer, even if he tried to say nothing more than "she does." Because _this_… this understanding, this love… was the last thing he could handle right now. He needed to be strong. Everyone needed that from him. But then George spoke again.

"I just wanted you to know that I … I saw your face when you walked in, and I know we saw the same thing. I don't ever want to see the Great Hall like that again, but… it almost seems like nothing happened here, doesn't it?" he asked, and in spite of his intentions and in spite of his promises to himself to be strong at Hogwarts, his voice cracked. And Bill heard it. But instead of giving him the strength to help his younger brother, it cracked his own resolve too.

The tears welled up in his eyes, and no amount of blinking would hold them back. George felt his face crumple as he watched the tears rolling down his oldest brother's face, and without even realizing how it happened, they were stumbling towards the closet that they were both surprised to find the other know existed.

It was at that moment that Harry opened the door, his own eyes red and swollen, and George and Bill almost crashed into him, sending him back into the wall. The three of them looked at each other, and Harry could see instantly that this was not a moment on which he should intrude. Mumbling apologies under his breath, he let them be. It took only seconds after the door closed behind him for George and Bill to collapse in tears.

Harry found Ginny at the Gryffindor table, and he sank into the seat beside her. She took one look at him and slipped her arm around his waist without saying a word. He relaxed into her embrace and after a moment, he looked across the table to find Ron and Hermione. He stiffened, and when Ginny looked up, he felt her freeze up too.

Molly and Arthur were talking quietly with Professor McGonagall, but that wasn't unusual. It was Ron. Hermione was sitting quietly beside him, but the look of worry on her face was what tipped Harry off. Ron had the same frozen look he'd had at Fred's funeral last year, and they all knew one thing for sure. That never meant anything good.

A/N: Here you go. A nice long chapter. Lots more to come. Charlie's up next. And there are reviews I can't address for reasons that will soon be abundantly clear.


	18. Where it all happened

Disclaimer: Say it with me now. "You don't own Harry Potter." There we go. (Can you tell I'm getting bored with this part?)

Charlie walked slowly through the hallways, barely seeing the portraits on the walls or the figures in them that watched him curiously. He hoped Bill had guided him correctly because he knew he didn't have all the time in the world to be traipsing through Hogwarts. The memorial would be in an hour, and even though he'd told Bill he'd just meet the rest of the family there, he admitted to himself now that he wanted to go with them. This day was already a lot harder than he'd expected it to be.

At the next hallway, he turned left and hurried along. It wouldn't be too much farther anyway, and even though he couldn't even explain to himself why he needed to see this – why he needed to be somewhere that didn't even look the way it did when it changed his life forever – he was anxious to do it already. He didn't know how he'd know for sure when he got there. And then he was there. And he knew.

There was a plaque on the wall in front of him, and it hadn't been there in all the years he'd passed this way on his walk to Potions or Transfiguration. As he walked toward it, his eyes blurred, and he sniffed, swiping his hand across them quickly, grateful that he was alone. But that was nothing compared to how he felt when he actually read the words.

_In memory of Fred Weasley, a friend, a joker, a fighter, a hero, and most importantly, a brother.__ He will be forever missed._

Yes, he will, Charlie thought, as the tears ran freely down his face. He looked around slowly at the intact walls, at the solid floor. It hadn't looked this way the last time Fred had seen it. Or maybe it had. He wouldn't have seen it after it had been blown apart. He'd already been…

Before his mind could travel to that unimaginable place, his reverie was interrupted by a sound he didn't recognize, and he whirled around, wondering which of his family members just couldn't let him do this by himself. But he didn't see anyone there. He took a moment to wipe his own eyes before gritting his teeth, determined to see who just couldn't leave him be. What he saw when he came around the corner took his breath away.

Percy, who had once roamed these halls with the utmost confidence and authority, was now huddled by an alcove, his knees drawn up his chest, his shoulders heaving. He didn't look up when Charlie approached because he didn't hear him, and he certainly couldn't see him. Forgetting every ounce of anger that had flared up in him when Bill said that Percy had stayed behind, Charlie crouched beside his next youngest brother and, without even realizing what he was doing, wrapped his arms tightly around him. Percy looked up with a start, but when he realized it was Charlie, he buried his face in his shoulder and let out a sob so deep that it shook his whole body.

"It… it was right here," he choked, and it took Charlie a moment to register what he was hearing and then to understand what it meant. He tightened his grip on Percy but looked around through blurry eyes. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he wished he could ask, and he suddenly realized that he had the source of all of that information in his arms. But could he do this to Percy? Maybe it would help, he thought, if he got it out. Or was he being selfish? Would it only help him? He swallowed hard. He knew what he was going to do, regardless. As long as his voice cooperated…

"What… what happened?" he asked softly. He cleared his throat. He'd wanted his voice to sound soothing, but it came out scratchy. Percy hardly noticed, though.

"We were right here," he finally said. He didn't look at Charlie but stared straight ahead, and Charlie knew he was reliving it all over again. He wondered how many times he'd done that in the past year, but one look at Percy's tortured face told him he didn't want to know the answer.

"We were side by side," he went on, "and I… well, I made a joke, if you can believe it. Fred didn't. He was so excited that he didn't realize what was happening." His voice cracked, and Charlie tightened his grasp once again.

"It's my fault," Percy said, and the tears he'd managed to hold down suddenly erupted again, and he collapsed against Charlie. This time, though, Charlie couldn't stay silent.

"No," he whispered, and Percy heard the defeat in his brother's voice, and it stopped his tears like he'd turned off a faucet. He pulled away and looked into his face.

"What?"

Charlie avoided his eyes, but he said the words he hadn't even known were going to come out. He hadn't even realized he was thinking them at all.

"It's my fault," he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that Percy was staring at him, but he didn't look up. He had to say this, and he knew he wouldn't be able to if he had to look at anyone.

"I didn't even get here until it was all over. If I'd gotten here sooner…"

Percy couldn't let him continue. He wrenched himself out from under Charlie's arm and glared at him until he was forced to meet his gaze.

"No," Percy said flatly. "If you'd gotten here sooner, Charlie, who knows _what_ might have happened? We might have lost you too. What could you have done?"

Charlie stared at the floor. "I'm your older brother," he said. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"And I was Fred's older brother," Percy managed to say. "And I couldn't protect him."

Slowly, Charlie raised his head, and the brothers stared at one another, the weight of their guilt shining in their eyes. Charlie broke first, and as the unfamiliar sound of his sobs echoed through the hall, Percy reached for him, and he collapsed now against his younger brother.

"I've got you," Percy murmured, his own voice choked with tears. "I'm here."

A/N: I can't tell you how sad this made me to write. I think it will be good in the long run, though. Oh, and The Mad Writer? … You're good.


	19. Memorial, Pt 1

Disclaimer: Oh, do I really need to still say it? I don't own it. Enough already.

By the time Charlie and Percy entered the Great Hall to rejoin their family, there were only ten minutes left until the Memorial was to begin. George and Bill had already gotten back, and it was much to Molly's consternation that Arthur kept his hand on her arm, restraining her from comforting them when it was so obvious to her that it was what they needed. And then Arthur nudged her, and she turned to see her other two sons making their way to the table, red-eyed and quiet. The fact that Percy was one of them didn't really register until he was standing before her.

The silence that descended on the table as everyone caught sight of them only deepened as Percy approached his mother. He was oblivious to their stares, and so was she, and she stood to face him, unsure of what he might say, unsure if she should say anything at all. It turned out that words weren't necessary. One look into her lined, worried face caused his eyes to fill again, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him as he buried his face in her shoulder, barely choking out, "I'm so sorry, Mum."

Ginny and Harry looked at one another, and he swore her eyes had filled with tears as she listened to Percy, but she held his gaze, only her rapid blinking an indication that he was most likely right. He grasped her hand tightly, and she swallowed hard. It hadn't escaped his notice that he hadn't seen _her_ cry yet.

Fleur sat beside Bill, her arm draped comfortingly across his shoulders, and he turned every now and then to kiss her, but his other hand was firmly on George's shoulder, and it didn't seem like he was intending to move it anytime soon. George was not complaining. He felt an ache inside of him that was so strong, it was almost physical. This was the first time the entire family was back together since this same time one year ago, and he didn't think he'd felt Fred's absence this strongly since that awful day.

Charlie sat down beside Hermione, who turned to him. She'd been the only person who hadn't stared when he'd walked in, he realized, but one glance at Ron explained why. The worry in her eyes was undeniable, and given the look on his younger brother's face, he couldn't exactly blame her. Before the battle last year, Ron had never had to face this kind of pain, and he seemed to think that the only way he could handle the hardest moments was by blocking them out. Charlie thought ruefully that maybe he could teach him his tricks, but then he looked at Ron again and saw a muscle in his jaw jump. And he knew that his little brother was much less numb than he wanted everyone to think.

A bell rang throughout the castle, the reverberations echoing into the now pained silence in the Great Hall. Everyone looked around as Professor McGonagall's magically magnified voice echoed through the grounds.

"If everyone would please proceed to the lake, the memorial will begin shortly."

None of them looked at each other as chairs scraped back, and people rose from the house tables, spilling out onto the lawn amidst the students who were now flowing out of the classrooms to join them. The crowd swelled as they walked, but no one spoke, and Harry thought that he'd never heard Hogwarts this quiet.

As they walked, he realized that the memorial was going to be in the same place as Dumbledore's funeral, and he felt tears prickling behind his eyes, but he blinked them back. He'd already had his moment, he reminded himself. Ginny needed him to be strong now.

This time, instead of sitting behind all of the important dignitaries and professors, he realized with a sinking feeling that _they _were now the important people. The first rows were reserved for the family members of the fallen, and the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione filed into the second row, sitting in much the same order as they had when they'd attended the seemingly endless funerals just one year earlier. Harry was glad to find himself between Hermione and Ginny again. As strong as he intended to be for Ginny, there was something about both of them that comforted him even when he refused to admit that he was the one who might need the comforting. Ron, on the other hand… one look at his carefully emotionless face gave Harry chills, and he, too, knew what Charlie had noticed. Ron wouldn't be able to keep this up for long.

The people behind them had started chattering, the students unable to remain quiet for longer than a minute, when Kingsley strode up the center aisle and took his place behind the podium. In no time, silence overtook the vast crowd, and Kingsley spoke, his deep voice comforting somehow even now.

"We are here to pay tribute to those who died fighting for the world in which we now live without fear," he began. "It was in this place, one year ago today, that Harry Potter defeated Voldemort and brought a peace to this land of which we had hardly dared dream. But he did not do it alone. He was surrounded by many brave men and women who now surround us only in memory. It would be impossible for us to pay tribute to each of them individually since so many fell in the line of duty that day, but we do have some of their loved ones here today who will speak on some of their behalves."

He stepped down, taking the seat directly in front of Harry, but Harry couldn't see him. He couldn't see much of anything. His eyes were stinging, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he would fall apart completely. He took a deep, quavering breath and stood, letting go of Ginny's hand. If he didn't go up now and do this, he'd never get through it.

Aware of the countless eyes watching him, Harry walked the short distance to the stand and stood behind it, grasping the sides tightly. He didn't know where to look, he realized. A glance at any of the Weasleys would reduce him to tears in an instant, but he needed a familiar face. And then he had it. Unnoticed by any of them in the complete misery in which they'd walked down to the lake, Luna sat behind the red-headed family, and her calm, comforting face was the only one he watched as he began to speak.

"A year ago today, Teddy Lupin and I suddenly had a lot in common. In the fight against Voldemort, that little innocent baby lost his parents before he ever really knew them. Just like my own parents, Remus and Tonks Lupin were members of the Order of the Phoenix, and just like my parents, they fought for a better world for their child. As we all learned last year, war isn't fair. It takes sons from their parents, brothers and sisters from their siblings and friends from each others' sides. As Teddy will come to know, and as I always have, it also rips parents from their children. It wasn't fair that these two brave, wonderful people had to die before they could appreciate the end of the terror in which they had always lived, but they died well-loved, and they died together. I know that I, personally, will always miss them. I lost my parents when I was only one, my godfather just three short years ago, and then Remus, the last faithful friend my parents had. I just have to hope that their names will always be remembered for the brave way in which they sacrificed themselves to save this world for Teddy, and this is something that I will never let him forget."

Throughout his entire speech, Luna had smiled at him encouragingly, and he felt buoyed by her support. But as he prepared to say the last line, he made the mistake of looking to her right, where he saw Andromeda, Teddy in her arms, with tears streaming down her face. His voice shook as he said the words that he knew would mean nothing to anyone but a select few.

"The only thing that brings me any comfort is to know that the Marauders ride together again."

His voice cracked on 'again,' and he stumbled away from the podium, his eyes on his seat and nothing else. He didn't think he could handle anyone talking to him or looking at him right at that moment, and both Ginny and Hermione seemed to realize this as they carefully kept their eyes and hands to themselves. Harry sat, rigid, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. He'd forgotten that George had also agreed to speak.

A/N: I'm sorry! It's longer than the last one, but this would be SO long if I kept going now. There's still so much more to this whole day to write, and it's going to have to be multi-chaptered like that night at the Burrow. I hope I'm forgiven for this… it's not _really_ a cliffhanger, right?


	20. Memorial, Pt 2

Disclaimer: I wish it could just be fill in the blank at this point. Don't. Own. It.

As Harry left the podium and hurried back to his seat, George's heart started to race. He couldn't do this… but he had to. He would let everyone down if he didn't. But what could he say? He hadn't prepared anything, and he was afraid of what might come out of his mouth if he just stood up there. It wasn't even the words that scared him. It was the possibility that there wouldn't be any, that he'd be standing up there, gaping like a fish, and then… nothing. He owed Fred more than that.

Bill whispered in his ear, "You don't have to if you don't think you can."

How did he always _know_? George gritted his teeth, his older brother's understanding starting to aggravate him, when he realized that Bill still had his hand on his shoulder… and he also realized that he was shaking. Oh. That was how he knew.

He turned to look into his eyes, and Bill tried to smile at him, whispering, "We'll all understand if it's too hard. Everyone will."

"But would Fred?" George asked, his voice a lot harsher than he'd intended. Bill jerked back as if he'd hit him, and George immediately felt sorry, but all of a sudden, he found himself on his feet and hurrying toward the podium. It was now or never.

Turning to face the crowd, he closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, though, he found himself in the same predicament Harry had. Who on earth had he looked at, George wondered? The family wasn't safe. No way. If he so much as glanced in their direction, he would be done for, the laughing stock of Hogwarts and not in the way they'd always dreamed. They… he swallowed hard. He just had to start. He'd be fine. He had to be. He just wouldn't look at anyone.

"It's been a year." His voice still sounded rough, and he cleared his throat. The attention of the crowd made him uncomfortable, and he glanced down at the podium, wishing for a moment that he'd listened to Ron, that he'd actually written something. He looked back up. "It's been a year since the Battle that changed so many of our lives, but for me, it's been a year of not believing how much my life will never be the same again. Most of you knew me as part of a matched set, Fred and George, the Weasley twins. Well, as just George for a year now, I can tell you one thing for sure. This world is a hell of a lot more boring. My brother was so much more than just a part of this set. Fred dedicated his life to making people laugh as much as possible. He wouldn't want to make us cry, and he'd want us to enjoy the world he died to save. I just don't think he could have ever known that without him… there's not so much to laugh about."

George trailed off. He felt as if he were choking, and he swallowed hard against the snitch-sized lump in his throat. He had one last thing he wanted to say, but he knew his voice would be almost unrecognizable, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and just… walked away. He didn't go back to his seat. He knew this control was only temporary, and the goal right now was getting away in time.

The rest of his family, however, was still frozen in their seats. Arthur had his arm tightly around Molly, and she was sobbing openly again, unable to restrain her tears for the first time in months. The tears were rolling down his face as well, and he bent his head down so he could bury his face in her hair. Neither of them were in any shape to listen to Dennis Creevey as he took the podium.

Bill sat next to his mother. When George had gotten up to speak, he'd sagged against Fleur, all of his strength gone. He'd thought he'd have time to regroup while George was up there, but he hadn't counted on what his brother might say, and hearing him speak and then listening to his mother's sobs had the complete opposite effect. Fleur looked up into his face, but he couldn't look back at her. He knew if he did, she would see the tears he was struggling with all of his might to hold back. Crying in the broom closet was one thing. George was the only other person there, and he'd been crying too. But now? In front of all of these people? Impossible. But Fleur took his chin in her hand and turned his face to look at her, and suddenly he was powerless to stop her, powerless to stop the tears. He choked on a sob, and then he hunched over, burying his face in his hands.

Charlie sat on his sister-in-law's other side. He struggled to control his breathing, and he tried to focus on the boy now standing before them as he struggled to speak about his own brother who had apparently died in the Battle. Percy sat beside him, leaning forward, holding his head in one hand. Without thinking, Charlie rested a hand on his shoulder, and he felt it begin to shake slightly. He gripped it harder. At least Percy's tears were silent, he thought, glancing toward Bill and wondering if he ought to suggest to Fleur that she take him aside. But he knew he couldn't do that. It would embarrass Bill, and even more than that… he wanted him here, no matter how hard it might be for both of them.

The only people in the row who were listening to Dennis were sitting beside Percy. Ron was still staring straight ahead, and Hermione was still watching him out of the corner of her eye. She was at a loss again, and listening to Dennis sniffling wasn't helping. Her own face was wet, but she could have sprouted another head for all Ron had noticed. And then… without a word to anyone… he stood up abruptly and walked off. He didn't look back, and he didn't walk in the same direction George had, and Hermione had no idea what she should do. She turned to Harry and Ginny … and her eyes welled up with tears.

He was shaking with the effort to contain himself, and Ginny was sitting beside him, her own body taut with the strain of not letting go. They had each wrapped their arms around themselves, not touching one another, and Hermione knew these were not the ones to ask for advice. She sighed, wishing she could get up and go after Ron right now, but she felt bad leaving when Dennis was still up there, so she turned her attention back to him in time to hear him say, his voice quavering, "I know he would never regret fighting beside Harry Potter. I just don't know what to say anymore when people ask me if I have any siblings. I wish he'd thought of that."

He was leaving the podium now, but Hermione barely heard him go. Harry's intake of breath beside her foretold disaster, and before she could even comprehend that it was happening for the third time, he, too, had gotten up and walked off.

That was when Ginny finally turned her head and looked directly into Hermione's eyes.

"He's right," she whispered as people wiped at their eyes. Her own eyes were shining, and Hermione slowly and carefully moved into the seat Harry had just vacated.

"Right about what?" she asked gently.

"How many brothers do I have when people ask?" she asked, choking on a sob. She looked away, but Hermione wasn't about to let another person run out of this row. She grabbed Ginny's arm, and before either of them realized what was happening, Ginny had thrown her arms around Hermione and was sobbing into her shoulder. Hermione tightened her grasp on Ginny. She didn't know where Ron was or what he was doing. George could be long gone by now. And who knew where Harry had disappeared to? But none of that mattered at this moment, she thought, tears slipping down her own face as she stared over Ginny's shoulder. This was where she needed to be right now.

A/N: Obviously, I'm sure you all know we'll catch up with the rest of them soon enough. There were way too many reactions to get into this chapter.


	21. Finding Harry

Disclaimer … is right here. Not mine.

A/N: Oh gosh. I like this SO MUCH MORE than the last one. This chapter and the next two actually have some kind of vague, general plan, so expect them pretty quickly. I hope this works. I had OOTP in my mind the whole time in case that's not abundantly clear. (It's a longer one too!)

For a long time, the only sound anyone heard was sniffling. People weren't speaking to one another; no one had approached the podium since Dennis had sat down, and even the younger students were stunned into an unusually respectful silence. It was only when Ginny had started to calm down that Hermione dared to whisper in her ear, "Do you think we should go after them?"

Ginny pulled back from her friend, wiping the back of her hand across her swollen eyes, and nodded.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Not just Harry and Ron, though. We also need to find George. If he's not back by the end of the service, Mum will be beside herself, and he'd be mad at himself for missing it too."

Hermione swallowed hard thinking about George's speech, but she nodded. "Ok. Let's go before someone else speaks."

The girls stood and started to walk out of the row, and as they passed Bill and Percy, each in his own private misery, Hermione felt her own eyes fill. But the look of determination was once again in Ginny's eyes, and she quickly explained to her parents where they were going. Arthur nodded gratefully, squeezing his daughter's hand as she passed him.

Once they were far enough away from the lake to work out a plan, they sat down with their backs against a tree as they tried to figure out the best way to do this.

"I think we should split up," Ginny said quietly, and Hermione looked at her in surprise.

"Are you sure?" she asked, and Ginny nodded, hastening to explain.

"It will be faster that way, and that's really the point, isn't it? We need to find them as quickly as possible."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly, but her uncertainty was written plainly on her face, and Ginny tried to suppress her exasperation.

"I know you're worried about Ron," she said, "but so am I. It doesn't really matter who finds him, does it?"

Hermione shook her head in denial. "No, that's not it. I know you'd be just as good for him as I would. It's just… I can't imagine George would want anyone but you right now. I don't think he'd take too kindly to my finding him."

Ginny shook her head and gave Hermione a surprised sort of smile.

"Hermione, haven't you figured it out by now? You're part of this family. Ron may be _in_ love with you, but we all love you. I promise you this. If you find George, it will be fine."

Hermione couldn't find the words to answer. She swallowed hard and managed a nod, and Ginny reached over and patted her gently.

"Get used to it," she said. "You're a Weasley now. Well… minus the glaringly red hair and freckles."

Hermione smiled. "It's ok, Gin. I think I have enough hair issues of my own."

Now both girls laughed, albeit weakly, and they were about to go their separate ways when another voice asked, "Are we each covering certain areas of the school?"

Startled, they looked at one another and then Luna stepped out from behind the tree, observing them serenely.

"Oh," Hermione said, trying to recover her composure. "Oh, ok. I – that is, we didn't realize you were also going to look," she said, cringing at the awkwardness in her voice, but Luna seemed, as usual, completely unperturbed.

"Well," she explained, examining the bark of the tree as Ginny and Hermione examined her, "I figured you needed to find them quickly, so I thought it would make sense for me to help. You know – three people looking for three people would speed things along."

Hermione and Ginny glanced at each other, and Ginny shrugged slightly. There was really no way they couldn't accept her assistance, especially since time was of the essence, and having Luna along would definitely help. The look in Ginny's eyes, though, let Hermione know that she was thinking about what the two of them had just discussed, but Luna surprised them once again, saying, "Oh, and if I find George, I'll send along a signal. I don't think he'd be comfortable talking to me."

Ginny's mouth fell open slightly. Nothing was more unnerving than having Luna completely on target, but she was suddenly incredibly grateful to her.

"Ok," she said briskly. "Thanks, Luna. And you were right before. Let's figure out the places for each of us to go."

It took surprisingly little time for the girls to divide up the school, and then they each set out on their own paths.

Luna drifted along toward the castle. Anyone watching her would have thought her to be lost, but she had a very definite goal in mind. She'd been given the task of checking some of the classrooms, and she had some idea of where to go first and who she might find there. She was completely unsurprised to find that she was right.

It had once been Professor Lupin's classroom, and while there was no longer any indication that he'd once taught third years how to defeat their fears in this very room, it was clear that one of his former students was having a hard time accepting that he'd never do anything like that again.

Luna stopped short when she entered the room, but she'd been so quiet that Harry didn't even look up. He was sitting on the floor in the back of the room, his knees drawn up to his chest and his head on his arms. She watched him for a moment without his knowledge, and then she made her way over to the professor's desk in the front of the room, walking loudly enough to attract his attention. By the time she'd reached the desk and sat down on its surface, he was watching her, and she returned his gaze steadily.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Harry mumbled, "So who sent you to find me?"

Luna shrugged. "I just got lucky, I guess. Hermione, Ginny and I split up the school. But I did have the feeling I'd find you here," she said quietly.

He nodded. He was staring at his feet again, and she looked around the room, giving him time to decide if he wanted to say anything else before she insisted that he return to the service with her.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and surprised himself by saying, "A lot of this is my fault, you know."

Luna looked at him again now, and her eyes were surprised. "What is?" she asked simply, and Harry stared at her.

"All – all of this," he said, gesturing around the room. "If I'd just gone into the forest sooner, there wouldn't have to be a Memorial here today. Remus might bring Teddy to this room in ten years to show him where he used to teach. Fred would still be in the back of the shop, coming up with inventions to terrorize future Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. George would laugh…" he trailed off, horrified to feel a lump rising in his throat. This was _Luna_, he reminded himself. The lump was painful, but crying in front of her would surely be worse. He couldn't imagine what she would say if he did. He swallowed hard. She was watching him now.

"How could you have known to go into the forest sooner?" she asked slowly but with much more deliberateness than usual. Harry didn't answer. He couldn't. He just looked at her, and a memory came back, suddenly, of the conversation she'd had with him after Sirius had died. She was the only person whose company he hadn't minded, he remembered, because she seemed to understand how he was feeling. Her simple question now showed him that this hadn't changed. How _could_ he have known? She was right.

"Thanks," he said gruffly. Luna nodded, her eyes drifting to a point over his head. Grief was burning in his throat, and he was grateful that she wasn't looking right at him anymore though he thought that might have been intentional.

They sat in silence for another minute until Luna finally said, somewhat reluctantly, "We should go back. Ginny and Hermione think it's important for everyone to be there when the service ends."

Harry nodded and got to his feet, surreptitiously wiping his face on his sleeve, hoping she hadn't noticed. If she did, she said nothing, and he felt gratitude rush through him. He'd thought he couldn't have had worse luck when Luna walked through the door, but somehow, the pit in his stomach suddenly seemed smaller.

They didn't speak as they walked, but when they'd almost reached the Memorial, Harry reached out a hand to stop Luna, and she turned to him questioningly.

"I…," he started and then stopped. There was no way he could ever say it all. "Thanks," he said simply. It wasn't enough, but she smiled.

"It's what friends do, Harry," she said softly, and he watched her go to her seat with a smile of his own, his first in days.


	22. Finding Ron

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Ginny walked purposefully through Hogwarts, looking around occasionally to see if she could catch sight of the signature red hair that would signify one of her brothers. She'd made it to the portrait for the Gryffindor common room without finding either of them when she stopped in front of the Fat Lady, suddenly at a loss. She didn't have the password.

The Fat Lady looked back at her, unsmiling, and then she said quietly, "You're the youngest, right?" It was hardly a question.

Surprised, Ginny nodded. She'd never thought the portraits really paid much attention to which students were which, but she somehow knew that this woman was referring to the Weasleys.

"Yes, I am. Is there any way…" She gestured to the wall, and the Fat Lady sighed.

"Normally, I would never do anything like this," she said, shifting uncomfortably in the lushly padded chair. "But seeing as I already let your brother through…"

Ginny stiffened and then didn't know why. She'd been sure she'd find one of them here. She now realized, though, that she had no idea which one.

"So can I…?" she asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The Fat Lady nodded. "Only because he seemed pretty upset," she said sternly, and Ginny nodded, feeling as though she'd walked through a ghost. This wasn't going to be easy. And she still didn't know who was on the other side of the wall.

The portrait swung aside, and Ginny clambered through the hole as quietly as she could manage. And somehow… she wasn't surprised.

Ron didn't look up from his contemplation of the fireplace. He'd expected Hermione, but he wasn't surprised either to find himself once again in the Gryffindor common room with his little sister.

Ginny didn't know whether or not she should speak first, so she sat in the chair opposite his, took the safe route and said nothing. She was sure Ron's curiosity would get the best of him sooner rather than later. She was right.

"Why'd you bother," he asked, his voice low. He wouldn't look up. She didn't need to see his face.

"Why'd I bother what…," Ginny returned, looking at the top of his head.

"Coming here to find me," he muttered. "It really matters if I'm there or not?"

She didn't answer, choosing instead to stare at him in disbelief. It took only a moment for him to raise his head, to see why she'd suddenly gone quiet. When he saw the expression on her face, he flushed.

"_What_?" he asked irritably, trying to muster as much anger as he could. Anger helped. It made it easier to talk. Angry was much better than sad.

"Are. You. Mental." Ginny glared at him, and Ron glared right back. But he didn't answer because she didn't give him a chance. "It really matters if you're there or not? You think that _doesn't_ matter to Mum? Are you really going to be that selfish on a day like today? Do you not know how hard this is?"

"Do _I_ not know," Ron suddenly shouted, jumping to his feet. "_You're_ the one who gets to take a break! _You're _the one who gets to go off and be a famous Quidditch star! Do you know what my days are like? I get to go to the shop that still has Fred's name and pictures everywhere and work with George… George who can't even bring himself to change the sheets on Fred's bed because he'll _never_ be able to admit that he's gone. So yeah, Ginny, I'm pretty sure_ I _know how hard it is!"

Ron's face was bright red, and he was breathing heavily. He was so furious that he was even seeing red, but once his vision started to clear, he saw that Ginny had gone white, and he felt a stab of remorse. He deflated like a punctured balloon and sank back into his chair.

There was silence until Ginny said, her own voice shaking, "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't realize how hard it must be for you to be working there."

Ron nodded his acknowledgement, but he wouldn't look up or answer her.

"I know it's hard to be down there today," she continued unsteadily, "but I also know it would mean a lot to everyone if we were all together. Hermione and Luna are also out looking for Harry and George because we thought none of you should miss the end of the service. Wouldn't you feel worse if you weren't there?"

Ron shook his head but still didn't speak, and Ginny felt her frustration rising again.

"Really?" she asked, unable to keep it completely out of her voice. "You really think you want to miss the end of the memorial for your own brother?"

Now Ron's head snapped up, and there was no mistaking the tears in his eyes. Ginny's heart sank into her shoes, and she looked away, feeling as though she were seeing something indecent. Of course her brothers had cried in front of her, but Ron _hated_ doing it.

"Do I _want_ to?" he choked, his voice strained. "Of course I don't _want_ to. I just don't think I _can_. We shouldn't have to be at a memorial for _Fred_." His voice broke. He looked away again, wishing he were anywhere but here. He was staring at the fireplace through blurry eyes when Ginny's arms were suddenly going around him, and without even knowing how it happened, he was clinging to her, his face pressed into her shoulder, his tears soaking into her shirt. She held him as tightly as she could, her own shoulders shaking.

Ginny pulled away first, and Ron drew the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes as she dried her own. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Ginny stood up.

"I'm going to head back," she said quietly. Without waiting for a response, she climbed back through the portrait hole and was halfway down the corridor when she heard Ron's voice.

"Ginny. Wait…"

She stopped without turning, and Ron caught up with her. They walked silently until they reached the front door, and Ginny could feel her brother's hesitation. Slowly, unsure of whether he would respond, she reached out and felt relief course through her when he took her hand. They made their way to the Memorial this way, and even when they reached their row… Ron still didn't let go.

A/N: Maybe these pairings turned out to be obvious… but I still felt like they were the right ones. The next chapter should definitely be an interesting one, to say the least.


	23. Finding George

Disclaimer: Oh come on. We all know I don't own it by now.

A/N: This took a little longer than usual. Sorry for the miniscule delay. It's a little different from the last two, but it kind of had to be. You'll see.

She didn't see him. He couldn't believe it. Sure, he was sitting behind a pillar and he hadn't made a sound, but he'd come to believe, pretty strongly over the last seven or so years, that Hermione Granger had eyes in the back of her head (in addition to assorted other places.) But there she was, looking around hopelessly, and she _didn't see him_. In spite of the fact that he'd been sitting here for the past 20 or so minutes feeling utterly miserable, a small smile crept across his face as he watched the back of her head. It was when she turned that he started to feel guilty.

She looked _so worried_. He couldn't understand why, though. Ron was still at the Memorial. So why was she out searching for _him_? And then he realized… Ron must have left too. George had seen the look on his face, had seen the struggle he was so clearly losing against feeling, against hurting, against everything he, himself, could no longer fight. He swallowed hard. Maybe he should help Hermione find him. Maybe helping the two of them would distract him from everything he didn't want to think about.

She was about to move on when he made his decision.

"Oi, Hermione," he called out, pushing himself to his feet. She whirled around with fear on her face, and he was surprised to see that her expression didn't exactly relax when she saw it was him. He made his way over to her, carefully circumnavigating the small, roped-off swamp.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to ignore the look of immediate understanding on her face as she glanced from him to the swamp. He didn't want to be understood right now. And, he realized, his heart sinking, if that really were the case, this was the last person he should be talking to. Even if he said nothing, he was pretty sure Hermione would understand. She was too smart not to.

She glanced away from him, seeming to know that the last thing he wanted was her scrutiny.

"Actually, I was looking for you…," she said, and now it was his turn to look surprised.

"Really? Why were _you_ looking for me? I mean… no offense. I'm flattered and all that. But I'd have thought Ginny or Bill would come."

Hermione looked pained, and George could see that she didn't relish having this conversation any more than he did.

"Well, Ginny and Luna were looking too, but we split up because we figured it'd be faster to find each of you that way. But I already got their signals that they found Harry and Ron, so I just kept looking for you." She gave him a small smile. "I must say… I'm not surprised that you hid best. Your reputation does precede you in this case."

His lips twitched in the ghost of his old smile, but then her words sunk in, and he sighed.

"Ron and Harry?" he asked, and Hermione nodded. "They ran off too?" She nodded again. George shook his head and rolled his eyes. "We're such a tough bunch, we Weasleys … and Potters, I guess. Harry's a Weasley now too, though. Like you."

For the second time that day, she was speechless.

"Thanks," she managed to whisper, and he glanced at her, giving a quick nod. They stood in silence for a moment, and then he motioned for her to sit beside him on the floor. They were just feet from the swamp, and she sat reluctantly, glancing at her watch, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by George, who said, "So the other two have been found, huh."

"Yes," she said softly, unsure of what else she should say. For some reason, though, George seemed to want to talk. He was calmer than she'd expected, and she felt herself starting to relax.

"Well, when did they go?" he asked, and Hermione explained Dennis's speech and why both Ron and Harry had apparently decided that they, too, needed to disappear.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Hermione forced herself to say the one thing everyone back at the Memorial surely wanted to know.

"Why did you go?" she asked softly. George didn't answer for a long time… so long that she was sure he wasn't going to at all. But after a silence that felt like it stretched for years, he finally muttered, "I couldn't say my last line."

Hermione turned now to look at him, but he was staring steadfastly at the swamp, refusing to meet her gaze.

"What last line?" she asked gently, and to his horror, his lower lip started trembling. He bit it, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"It's just," he started and had to clear his throat before he could continue. To his relief, she stopped looking at him and was now also watching the swamp. He took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that I love him. And I realized that I didn't remember the last time I told _him_ that, so I didn't see how …" He stopped talking. He had to. His lip was quivering again, and even though she still wasn't looking at him, he knew his voice was quivering too. He fell silent, trying to control his breathing.

Still staring straight ahead at the swamp, Hermione said in a low voice, "Even if you didn't tell him… you don't think he knew it? We don't always have to say it, George. People sometimes know anyway, and considering how smart Fred always prided himself on being, I'm pretty sure he was one of them."

George didn't answer her. He couldn't. His attempt to control his breathing had been failing miserably, but Hermione's words made it that much harder.

"I know he did," he whispered. "But I just wish… I wish I could tell him instead of having to tell everybody else." His voice broke, and he turned away. He hoped she'd take the hint and leave.

Hermione sat beside him, wondering what she should do or even if she should do anything at all. She wanted him to come back with her but not if he really couldn't. Slowly, she got to her feet. If he didn't want her to look at him, she certainly didn't want to make this harder than it obviously already was.

She glanced down at the top of his head, but he was still staring towards the swamp and hadn't looked up.

"It really _is_ an impressive bit of magic, you know," she said softly. "And I bet it will always be here. It's like the plaque in that … other hallway said. Not only will Fred never be forgotten, but the Weasley twins will never be forgotten either. You'll never be just George."

George couldn't respond. He wanted to. He wanted to thank her, but he could hardly breathe anymore let alone speak. He couldn't even see the swamp he'd been staring at for the past half hour. His eyes were so blurred that everything seemed to shimmer. He heard Hermione's footsteps as she turned to go, and he knew he was about to be alone again. And he couldn't face being alone again. He forced himself to stand.

"Hermione." He tried to say her name, but it sounded like something completely foreign coming out of his throat. She turned back in surprise, and he knew he looked as bad as he felt from the look on her face. He didn't care. There was too much alone time in his life right now for him to care.

"Thank you," he choked, his voice strangled. He stumbled toward her, and before he even realized what he was doing or why, he threw his arms around her. She was surprised, he knew, but she held onto him tightly, and he would never be able to tell her how grateful he was that she didn't let go or say another word until he finally managed to get his tears under control.

She still said nothing when he finally let go, just waited quietly for him to wipe his eyes and conjured up a handkerchief for him to blow his nose. When he'd finally pulled himself back together, she said quietly, "Ready to go back?"

He nodded. He was. With one last glance at the swamp, he let her lead him away. It felt a bit like leaving Fred behind, but she was right. At least _this_ would always be here…


	24. The end of the Memorial

Disclaimer: HP is NM. (not mine.)

A/N: Once again, I know this is later than usual, but the updates might slow down in general considering I am going back to work this week. I hope this chapter fits. I had a much harder time with it than I've had with any of the others.

By the time Hermione and George returned, the speeches had ended. The crowd was sitting quietly, waiting for the conclusion to the service, and Hermione tried to make eye contact with Ron as she slipped back into her seat. But he was sitting with his head in his hands, and she could see, even before she sat down beside him, that the mask was gone. He didn't move when she took her seat, so she put her hand tentatively on his shoulder. When he didn't jump, she left it there.

George dropped into his own seat, thinking about how much he wished he knew Bill's face-cooling spell. He knew people were looking at him, but he stared straight ahead. He'd just have to pretend that his eyes and nose weren't red and that people couldn't tell he'd been crying. He wished he could hide.

"You're not the only one," Bill whispered, and George looked up sharply. _Not again_, he thought, slowly turning to look at his brother.

"Will. You. Stop. Reading. My. Mind." It sounded almost funny, but he meant it, and Bill knew it. He couldn't stop himself from raising an eyebrow, though.

"Sorry," his oldest brother muttered, turning back to the podium. "But it's true."

George said nothing. He knew Bill was right. He just didn't want him to be.

A silence fell over the vast lawn, and a clear music note echoed across the stillness. Harry froze, and Ginny reached over to squeeze his hand. It was phoenix, and it was a sound they hadn't heard since the night Dumbledore died.

The phoenix's lament washed over the mourners, and suddenly, it was accompanied by magic that reminded Harry of the slides the Dursleys used to take to show him the vacations he'd missed. These images, though, that floated briefly over the podium before vanishing, were of the people who had fallen in battle, and it was this wrenching display that signified the end of the service.

When the last image faded, and Dumbledore's face was no longer smiling over the assembled crowd, there was a silence broken only by sniffles. The students rose and returned to the castle, but none of the families who had come back for the Memorial budged from their seats.

Hermione had taken her hand off Ron's shoulder and was staring straight ahead, tears running down her cheeks, when she heard a sound that she'd never before heard outside of the privacy of Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. She turned slowly and felt her throat constrict when she saw Ron hunched over in his seat, his shoulders shaking. Slowly, she shifted in her seat and put her arm across his shoulders. After a moment, he moved his hands and whispered hoarsely, "I miss him, 'Mione. He made fun of me all the time, but I miss him so much."

Hermione choked on the lump in her own throat. It was rarely to never that Ron actually _said_ these things, and her heart started to hurt.

"Of course you do," she tried to say, but her own voice trembled. She pulled him closer, and he turned to look her. Her stomach flopped over when she saw his red and haunted eyes, and she pressed her forehead to his, mumbling, "We'll always miss him, Ron. But it's like I said to George before. He'll always be your brother."

Ron nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah. I know that. I just… I hate this," he finally choked, and he buried his face in his girlfriend's shoulder.

Hermione rubbed his back automatically, but when she glanced over his shoulder, she was surprised to see Charlie watching them. Their eyes locked, and he nodded slowly.

"It was bound to happen," he said conversationally, and she blinked in surprise to hear the forced normalcy in his voice. He continued. "Didn't you see his face? He wasn't going to last long like that."

Hermione nodded slowly, wondering what Ron thought of this, and then realized he probably wasn't even hearing a word of it. She tightened her grasp on him and said to Charlie, "How about you? How are you doing?"

He shrugged. He gestured down the row to his left to where his mother was clinging to his father, still sobbing painfully. Bill had Fleur in his arms although it wasn't clear who was comforting whom. George was merely staring straight ahead. And Percy …

They both noticed him at the same time. Charlie swallowed hard, his own composure suddenly rattled. He glanced once more at Hermione who was now watching Percy, her eyes full again, and without another word, he reached for his younger brother. Percy was wrapped completely into himself, but when he felt an arm go around him, he turned blindly into his older brother's hug. That was all it took for the rest of Charlie's self-control to disappear.

George turned slightly when Charlie wrapped his arms around Percy. He swallowed hard, and it had nothing to do with seeing his brothers' pain. He was alone again. Sure, Bill had promised to be there for him, and he had, but George couldn't expect him to remember it now, not when he was unable to control his own tears and had understandably turned to his wife. He suddenly needed to leave again.

This time, he whispered to his father that he would meet them back at the castle, and Arthur nodded, his face pained as he watched him go. He wished he could convince his son that he would never be alone, but he also knew that part of him always would be.

George stumbled away from the crowd, not knowing where he was going or even why he couldn't seem to stay with everyone else. Like he'd told Hermione, he thought bitterly, the Weasleys were such a tough bunch. His anger at himself grew, and his eyes cleared as he walked. Didn't Fred deserve more than George's weakness, his inability to even sit through one whole Memorial service? His fury increasing, he suddenly found himself on the Quidditch pitch, and he wished desperately for a bludger, for anything that would let him vent his frustrations with himself, with his life, with Fred for leaving…

He pulled up short. He wasn't angry at Fred. That wouldn't make any sense. Fred didn't choose this. He would never have left…

His train of thought was broken. As his surroundings came into sharper focus, his breath caught in his throat. Lee was already there.


	25. Finding Lee

Disclaimer: HP is NM.

A/N: Well, first of all, a clarification: when Fred died, we know that Harry and Percy moved him out of the way of the fighting, but we never find out how his body got to the Great Hall. (You'll understand why I mentioned this once you read this chapter.) This was another difficult one to write. Some of it (the ending) is pretty autobiographical, and those things always stink. Any ideas for any additional chapters? I have a couple more ideas floating around in my head, but I'm certainly not planning on ending it here.

George walked slowly across the pitch toward Lee. His friend wasn't watching him approach, but George could see from the way he was sitting that he'd seen him. Once he reached him, he dropped into the seat Professor McGonagall used to use when she monitored Lee as he called the matches. They stared out at the pitch in silence, and George could practically see the ghosts of old matches before his eyes even though he'd always been on a broom for the most exciting ones, swooping around Harry to protect him from the Bludgers, Fred at his side…

His eyes burned, and he blinked hard. He was still staring straight ahead, willing his eyes to clear, when he heard a sniffle beside him. He wouldn't turn, but he mumbled, "I'm sorry I made you come to this today."

Lee said nothing for a moment. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "It's ok. I'm glad I did, I guess. It's just… I don't know. I didn't expect it to be this hard."

His voice sounded strange, not at all like his own, and George was once again thrown forcefully back into memories of years ago when Lee would call those exciting games, interjecting his recitation of the plays with the jokes that had made him the twins' best friend from the very start of their years at Hogwarts. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye now and saw someone who looked nothing like his extremely funny best friend. In fact, Lee looked like he was on the verge of tears, and George had to look away.

"It stinks," George said when he felt his voice would work. "I used to love it here, but now I keep seeing things like they used to be, and I hate it. I don't want this to be a place I never want to come back to, but I think it is now."

Lee nodded. "Yeah. Same here. I don't remember every moment of that Battle, but there are some things I know I'll never forget."

George was quiet for a moment. He didn't want to ask, but from the tension in the air, he could tell that Lee needed to say this, so he tried to sigh as inaudibly as possible. "Like what…," he asked tentatively.

Lee's breath came whooshing out of him as he deliberately stared off into space, his voice wavering slightly when he said, "Well, I guess the first thing I remember is when I found … Fred…"

Neither boy could look at each other as Lee began to recount the events that had changed his life more than George had ever brought himself to acknowledge.

* * *

_Lee raced along the blown-out corridor. Catching sight of Neville, he shouted, "Where are the rest of them?"_

_Neville shrugged, bending slowly to lift a piece of stone that had fallen on a fellow student. Lee couldn't place the name, but he remembered seeing the kid in Hufflepuff, and he winced as he realized that he hadn't survived._

"_I don't know," Neville mumbled, standing back up slowly. "I think I saw Ginny over that way, and then Percy and Fred were down the next hallway as far as I know. I have no idea where Harry is, though. Or Ron or Hermione."_

_Lee nodded and continued to run. For some reason he couldn't explain, he had a pit in his stomach. He just needed to know all of the Weasleys were ok. There were so many that he couldn't help but feel like the odds were against them. Once he knew they were ok, he'd be able to figure out what to do next. Well, they'd figure it out together like they always had._

_He rounded the bend and confronted a sight that caused him to stop so short that he almost fell over his own feet. He stared in disbelief. This couldn't be. There was no way what his eyes were seeing could be reality. But as he stumbled forward, Percy looked up from his younger brother's body, his face wet with tears, and he stared at Lee without even seeming to realize who he was seeing._

"_It's my fault," he choked. "He was laughing at my joke, and then there was this explosion and …" He couldn't go on. It didn't matter. Lee didn't hear a word of what he was saying as he stared into Fred's face._

_Two ears, he noticed. So it was Fred. A smile. He wondered vaguely what he could possibly have been smiling about. He realized, though, that if anyone could find humor in this horror, it would be Fred. But, he suddenly thought, and now a lump came to his throat, there wouldn't be anything funny anymore. _

"_Where's George," he blurted, but Percy didn't answer. Lee suddenly realized that he hadn't been paying an ounce of attention to him and that he was once again sobbing into Fred's chest. Lee's vision suddenly blurred, and he crouched beside his best friend and his best friend's older brother._

"_Perce, let's move him to the Great Hall. That's where they're bringing everyone…"_

_Now Percy looked up. He stared at Lee for a moment before finally nodding his consent, and between the two of them, they hoisted Fred's body and carried him what seemed like an interminable distance, past gasps and exclamations of "it's a twin but I'm not sure which one!" _

_By the time they reached the Hall, they set Fred down gently, looking around for red hair. Lee could see from Percy's expression that he was terrified of seeing his family but also that he needed them more than he'd ever have been willing to admit for the past two years. And then George walked in._

"_Oi, Lee!" he called out, and Lee felt his stomach drop and his face turn white. Clearly, George hadn't heard. He hurried through the crowd to them, shouting, "Have you seen Fred?"_

_Percy moved forward to stop this from happening, to stop time, to keep part of George's life from ending right then, but he was too late. Even as he stood in between the twins, George looked over his shoulder, and after one glimpse at his friend's face, Lee had to look away. The Weasley twins were not supposed to look the ways either of them did right then. For one brief moment, it was like both of them had died in the Battle…_

* * *

George closed his eyes when Lee trailed off, his voice too strained to say another word. Neither of them spoke for a long time, and then George said, "I forgot that you found him." 

Lee nodded. "Mmhmm." He couldn't say more than that, but George didn't need him to.

"I … I didn't know what to think that day. I didn't believe it. I still don't believe it's forever. And I'm … I'm mad at him," George whispered. He kept his eyes down as he felt Lee turning to him.

Lee stared at George for a moment before forcing himself to speak. "Well, so am I," he said. "He always told us he'd kill us if we died in Battle, and then what does he do? He goes and gets himself killed."

"And it's _Fred_," George burst out. "It's ridiculous! And … and it's not fair," he concluded, his words an echo of another conversation he'd had with Ginny, but it was still true. It still wasn't fair. He still needed his brother, and he still didn't have him.

"No," Lee agreed. "It isn't."

After another few minutes, George stood up. "Ready to go back?"

Lee also got to his feet and nodded. They had only started to walk when George mumbled, "I'm glad you found him. I bet he'd have been glad too."

Lee didn't answer him. He couldn't. He just stopped walking. George had gone on a few steps before realizing he was walking alone, and he turned back to where Lee was standing stock-still, staring at the ground. He walked slowly back to him and tentatively put a hand on his shoulder. It started shaking, and he left his hand there, squeezing hard, waiting.

Once they started walking again, it took them a short time to reach the castle, but when they were standing at the bottom of the steps, Lee stopped again, and this time George stopped too. This time, though, George looked at him, and he saw as Lee's face crumpled. Without thinking, he reached out, and Lee threw his arms around the only best friend he had left.


	26. The team reunites

Disclaimer: HPNM.

A/N: I'm sorry this one is so short, but it's a set-up for the next one which is pretty important and so should stand on its own. Thanks for the suggestions. This chapter means I obviously took one, but it segued so nicely. Thanks ncis-lady… as usual!

George and Lee entered the Great Hall, deliberately avoiding eye contact with all of the people who had looked up to see who was walking in. They glanced at one another uncomfortably, each taking note of the other's red eyes. George sighed. If he'd ever had a funny reputation in Hogwarts, he'd sure as hell ruined it today.

Without a word, the two headed towards a table full of people they recognized. It was the old Gryffindor Quidditch team minus Harry, who George assumed was off somewhere with his family. Katie, Angelina and Alicia looked up when they approached, and it took every ounce of George's willpower not to break down with one glimpse of the sympathy in Katie's eyes. She always had this effect on him, and he really didn't know why. With a look that burned him with its understanding, she said nothing, just squeezed his hand as he sat beside her silently. He marveled again at how she always seemed to get him.

Lee cleared his throat and tried to speak, only to feel the words dying on his lips. Angelina looked at him sympathetically. She could see how hard he was trying to act as though he were normal, as though everything were… but that just wasn't possible. There was no normal today. She reached out to touch his shoulder, and he jerked back without even realizing what he was doing and then wanted to kick himself when he saw the hurt in her eyes. There was enough pain today without him adding to it unintentionally, but he couldn't even apologize. He couldn't say anything.

No one did for a long time. It was only when people began to leave the hall to walk to Hogsmeade that Oliver spoke.

"George, we have something we needed to ask you."

George looked down from his contemplation of the enchanted ceiling. This was the first time he'd heard Oliver speak, he realized, and one look at him explained why. He was not having an easy time today. His hair was unkempt and his clothes looked rumpled. He was composed, but it was clear that it was taking effort.

"Sure," George said slowly, wondering what it could possibly be. It was nothing he could have expected.

"We," and Oliver looked around to include Alicia, Angelina and Katie, as well as Lee, "want to come back with you when we leave here. We wanted to know if it would be ok if we went to the… grave." His voice choked a little on the last word, but he looked steadily at George, who had flinched but then nodded.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be ok?"

The others glanced at Oliver, and he spoke again. It seemed to George that this had been well discussed, and Oliver had been nominated to be their unofficial spokesperson. It made him slightly uneasy to realize that they felt they'd need to plan this conversation so carefully. Was he really that fragile? He shook it off.

"Well, we weren't sure if you all were planning on going, and we didn't want to intrude…"

George shook his head. "No, I think this was enough for everyone for today. I'm sure some of them might find their way there tomorrow, but I don't expect anyone to go once we get back."

Oliver nodded and glanced once more at the group around him, and everyone else nodded as well.

"Ok then," he said brusquely, but George could hear the fear in his voice and understood it well. "Let's go."

George glanced over at the table where the rest of his family was sitting and hesitated a moment before making the decision he knew his friends were silently urging him to make.

"Hang on," he said. "I just need to go tell them I'm going with you."

Oliver nodded, and George walked off. None of his friends spoke, but then Katie glanced at Oliver and said softly, "Nice job."

He nodded but didn't answer. That conversation was the extent he planned on talking today, and he refused to even look at any of the girls now. They exchanged looks with each other, however, and Alicia nodded imperceptibly. She'd keep an eye on him at the cemetery. It was clear that someone would need to.

Moments later, George returned and nodded briefly in answer to Katie's questioning look, and the rest of them stood slowly.

"Ok," Angelina said, her voice suddenly hoarse. "Let's go."

They walked into Hogsmeade in silence, and George couldn't help but wonder how this had come about. None of them had spoken to him in days, and he'd almost been hurt by their absence in the days leading up to this Memorial, but he'd managed to make himself believe that it was just too hard for them to talk about. But now it was clear that they _had_ been talking about it … just not with him. He didn't want to think about how this must mean they thought he was doing.

Once they reached a safe distance from Hogwarts' borders, they all looked at each other.

"Apparate directly there?" Katie asked, and the rest of them nodded. Popping sounds filled the air as the one-time teammates disappeared one by one, George giving Hogwarts one last lingering look before joining them. He shook his head. He'd need to concentrate to do this properly. He just wished he didn't have to do it at all. He needed this to get easier, and he had no idea when that was going to happen.


	27. Back at the graveyard

Disclaimer: HPNM

A/N: Ok, I've become a fan of the cliffhangers. Sorry. Can't help it. I hope I did this some kind of justice. It wasn't easy to write.

When George finally came walking up to his teammates at the gates to the graveyard, he wouldn't look any of them in the eye. He'd concentrated enough not to get himself splinched but not nearly enough to make his destination completely accurate. He didn't entirely mind, though. He needed the walking time to sort out all of the anxiety that had begun building in him from the moment Oliver had disclosed this plan. This was the last place he ever wanted to go with a group (brought back too many memories), and yet somehow, he knew it was what he was "supposed" to do, and so he had found himself saying yes. Now he was starting to regret it.

No one spoke when he finally reached them, and he was grateful for that. It was clear that they understood what had happened, but they also seemed to realize that he wasn't planning on talking about it. Without a word but with very heavy hearts, they walked into the graveyard. Although the others had been there for the funeral, they automatically fell behind George as he led the way to the one place in the world that both drew him and repelled him with equal force.

It wasn't as if they'd never seen the headstone before, but there is something about seeing those words again after a long time, and it hit them all. George, who had only been there mere days earlier, stood very still for a moment before his friends realized that they'd reached their destination, and he didn't speak. He couldn't. He couldn't even move.

Angelina stepped forward slowly. Tears had gathered in her eyes, and when she spoke, they started to run down her cheeks. "Hey, Fred. It's … it's me. I know I haven't been by in a while, but I just wanted to tell you that things aren't the same without you around, and we all miss you." She whispered something else inaudible, but it sounded to George like she said something about dancing, and then she fell back, her shoulders starting to shake. Alicia wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

The rest of them stood in pained silence as they listened to Angelina trying to get herself under control. Lee stared at the grave and wouldn't look at any of his friends. Oliver was much the same way. His jaw was clenched, and he glared at the ground, his very stance daring any of his friends to approach him. George found himself wondering with a sort of vague detachment if anyone else would say anything when Katie cleared her throat. He looked at her sharply, but this time, she avoided his gaze. He clenched his jaw. He did _not_ want _her_ to speak. He could handle anyone else's words… not hers.

"Fred," she started and then had to stop. She took a deep breath, and now she glanced at George out of the corner of her eye. He refused to look at her again, and she sighed. She didn't want to hurt him any more than he was clearly already hurting, but she also wanted to say what had been on her mind for a year now. She swallowed hard and threw caution to the wind.

"We're all here," she finally continued, "the best Quidditch team Gryffindor ever had… well, minus Harry. But it doesn't feel like we'd even all be together if he were here because none of us can really believe that you're gone. I mean it's been a year, and you haven't been here for any of the stuff that's happened, but I don't think any of us really believed there wouldn't be a time when we'd still get to tell you about all of it. And now we're here telling you, and … well, it just isn't good enough. Of course we all knew the dangers of joining the Order and fighting Voldemort, but this… this wasn't supposed to be any of us. And it certainly wasn't supposed to be you."

She had to stop and not even because her own eyes had started to blur. She'd underestimated the power of her words, and the sounds of gasping around her finally penetrated her consciousness. She'd been so focused on saying what she needed to that she'd managed to block it out. Until now. But then she looked around and saw what she'd done.

Lee had given up. He was still staring at the ground, but the tears ran down his face, and his breathing was unsteady. Just as she noticed him, though, Katie realized that Angelina did too, and she reached for him through her own tears. This time, he didn't have the strength or the desire to push her away, and he folded her into his arms, both of them shaking with silent sobs. Alicia stood by them, her hand still on Angelina's back, but her own eyes full, and Katie realized that she was watching Oliver, and she turned to look at him.

He was standing in much the same way he had been before Katie had started to speak, but there was something even more rigid in his stance now, and the two girls glanced at each other, understanding etched on each of their faces. After a moment, Alicia took a deep breath and stepped around Lee and Angelina, and Katie watched nervously. She wasn't as close to Oliver as Alicia was, and this was necessary, but it still didn't mean it was going to be easy.

For a moment, Alicia just stood next to Oliver, and he pointedly ignored her. After a beat, she put her hand on his shoulder. If it were even possible, he stiffened more, but, Alicia was relieved to see, didn't throw her hand off. When she showed no sign of removing it, though, Oliver finally turned to look at her. He wouldn't make eye contact, but his low, strained voice carried to Katie and, unfortunately, to George.

"Why is it still so hard?" he asked. His voice broke, and he looked away. Alicia kept her hand on his shoulder and let out a shaky breath of her own.

"Maybe," she said, her voice low, "because it's like what Katie said. It still doesn't seem like it could be real. Because it shouldn't be. This is _us_. These kinds of things aren't supposed to happen to us."

Oliver nodded his agreement, and Katie could see his struggle against breaking down through her own tears. It didn't take long before he could fight it no longer, and hearing him break proved harder than any of them could have imagined.

Sure, they'd seen him distraught when they'd lost matches at Hogwarts, but they'd all shared in that adolescent disappointment. Sure, he'd sobbed with joy when they'd won the Quidditch Cup, but they'd all been thrilled, and they'd also had the Weasley twins to take the mickey out of him. None of them had ever heard him experiencing this kind of grief, though, and it finally proved too much for George as well.

As Oliver crumpled into a heap, his sobs echoing in the quiet graveyard, Alicia sank down beside him, her own tears finally released, and wrapped her arms around him. Katie swallowed hard. She wanted to go to Oliver and Alicia and join their huddle; she wanted to go to Angelina and Lee, who still hadn't let go of one another. She was afraid of going to George. As hard as it was to listen to her friends crying, it would be harder to be with the person who was hurting the most. But she knew she had no choice.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to do what would undoubtedly be one of the hardest things she ever had. And then she froze. George was gone.


	28. Anger and Understanding

Disclaimer: If only I owned it… but I don't.

A/N: I can't thank all of you enough for all of the support and encouragement. I'm not inclined to stop writing any time soon. You've all made this such a wonderful experience. The story goes on. Oh, and I suppose this is kind of cliffhanger-ish, but not nearly as bad as the last one, I don't think. And don't worry. The outburst in this chapter will be addressed in a later one.

Katie knew she had to find him, but she didn't know where to look first. She did have to wait for the others to calm down enough so she could let them know she was going. She also let them know (quietly and firmly) that she was going alone. Neither Lee nor Oliver seemed to care either way. They were too intent on avoiding each other's eyes at all costs, so they both nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to continue staring at the ground. Angelina looked worried, though.

"Are you sure you'll be ok?" she asked Katie, biting her lower lip, and Alicia echoed her concern, also looking at Katie doubtfully.

She appreciated their concern, but she knew there was no choice. She nodded, trying to look and sound much more confident than she actually felt.

"It'll be fine," she tried to assure them, and without another word, she left them to Lee and Oliver, hoping they'd find some way to help soothe the now-bruised egos. Once she'd gone, Alicia and Angelina looked at the boys, then at each other, and seemed to come to the same decision at the same time.

"Let's get going, ok?" Angelina said to Lee, and he nodded, and she stood first and then pulled him to his feet while Alicia did the same for Oliver. It took a moment for the boys to realize that they'd been pulled up to face each other. There was a tense silence in which neither of them moved, and then, without either of them realizing how it happened, they had grabbed each other into a tight hug. The tension dissolved, and the girls relaxed. They were going to be ok now.

* * *

Katie hated wandering through the graveyard. She had goose bumps, but she didn't see that there was much of an alternative. She could understand George needing and wanting an escape, but she couldn't imagine he'd go too far. As much as he might have wanted to get away from the rest of them, he wouldn't want to leave Fred, she was sure. She was right. 

As much as they all loved being Weasleys, they all hated the red flag that was their hair, and George was no exception. He knew Katie would come after him, but he also hoped she wouldn't find him. He was afraid of her, and he wasn't sure why. And then he saw her making her way to him through the headstones, and he knew there was no use in hoping she hadn't seen him. But it didn't mean he had to look at her. So he didn't.

It was immediately clear to Katie that this was going to be much harder than she'd expected. George refused to meet her gaze even when she sat down beside him, and she stared at the headstone in front of her instead, reading its inscription and wondering if George would _ever_ speak. Not like she had any idea of what he might say, she realized. It had been a long time since they'd talked. She regretted that now.

After a long silence that grew progressively more uncomfortable, it became clear to Katie that she would have to speak first. Trouble was… she didn't know what to say. And it hurt her to realize that she had an easier time "talking" to Fred than she was having now trying to think of what to say to the twin who could actually answer her. Finally, she settled on the most obvious topic.

"Why'd you leave us there?" she asked, her voice low. She always found herself practically whispering when she was in cemeteries. She didn't know why. George still didn't look at her, but he shifted in place. He was so tired of answering this question. He was so tired of leaving, but he was also so tired of it being too hard to stay.

He couldn't just not answer, but there really was no answer anymore. He left because he couldn't deal, but he was tired of everybody knowing that. But Katie did, he realized, and he didn't understand why that was suddenly so frustrating. Shouldn't it be a good thing, he wondered? But it most certainly was not. She couldn't _really_ understand him. Nobody could. He couldn't understand himself.

After it became clear that she wasn't going to get a response, she sighed. "It's ok, you know," she whispered. "We get it."

And suddenly, he snapped. "NO! YOU DON'T." She jerked back, and but he didn't feel one bit sorry. He was just getting started, he realized, and his voice got louder. "NO ONE GETS IT. IT'S. TOO. HARD. WHY DID I LEAVE? WELL, HERE'S A BETTER QUESTION, KATIE. WHY DID **FRED** LEAVE? BECAUSE ALL I'M DOING IS WHAT HE DID EVEN BETTER. HE LEFT **ME**. I KNOW YOU'RE ALL SAD. I KNOW EVERYONE IS, AND I KNOW EVERYONE MISSES HIM. BUT **HE LEFT**. AND…" he couldn't go on. He'd been blinded by a completely unexpected rage that deserted him as quickly as it had swept over him, and now he was breathing heavily, his eyes stinging once again. He looked at Katie now through his blurry eyes and could still see that she was white and scared looking.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He looked away from her. "But I just get so angry." His shoulders slumped, and he swallowed hard. Anger was easier, he thought fleetingly, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to breathe deeply. He'd have time to calm down, he reassured himself. Katie would be too scared to come near him now anyway. He couldn't believe he underestimated her so much.

After a moment of deep breathing that did absolutely nothing to calm him down, he felt her arms wrap around his waist, and then the fight was useless. She rested her cheek against his back, and he slumped back into her, heaving a shaky sigh.

"Thanks," he whispered, trusting her to hear him. Her arms tightened in response, and he was glad she was behind him because there was no holding back the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. After a few moments of standing that way, though, he suddenly realized… it didn't matter, and he shifted out of her grasp and turned to her.

Katie felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw George's tears, and she instinctively reached for him again. He wrapped his arms around her, and she smoothed his hair and rubbed his back, trying to hold back her own tears, trying to be the comfort he so sorely needed. And when he raised his head and kissed her, she didn't even think of stopping him.


	29. The Aftermath

Disclaimer: HPNM

A/N: I really do like this pairing, but this is my first foray into creating a "new" relationship in this world. I hope this isn't too dramatic.

It seemed timeless while it was happening, but then Katie reluctantly forced herself to break away. This wasn't a solution. She didn't want to kiss out of sympathy. But now George was staring at her in a way he never had before, and she shifted uncomfortably. She couldn't tell _what_ he was thinking.

She was beautiful, he realized, so beautiful that it made his heart hurt. Her brown hair fell into her eyes, but it was her eyes that held him there, rooted to the spot. They were filled with compassion and maybe even something else, he hoped? He didn't know what she was thinking, but he could only pray that it wasn't that they'd just made a huge mistake. He suddenly realized that for the duration of that kiss… his world had righted itself again. It was brief… but he couldn't remember ever having a moment like that in the past year. She couldn't think this was a mistake. She just couldn't.

One of them had to speak, but George was too busy staring, and Katie was too busy worrying, and it was fully five minutes before she finally broke the silence. What she said surprised both of them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. George's eyes widened, and she winced. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just… I didn't mean for that to happen."

George stared at her for a moment and then shrugged. "Well, neither did I, but that doesn't mean it was a bad thing."

Katie shook her head, and George felt his heart sink as she continued. "But that's not what you need right now."

He didn't know what to say. He was starting to get angry again, but he forced himself to breathe deeply. "Listen," he said when he finally trusted himself to speak. "Everyone seems to think they know what I need right now, but I'm pretty sure no one has asked me. Of course I need Fred. Of course I do." He shook his head as she tried to take his hand. His throat constricted, but he was determined to get through this. "But Katie, you just made me feel more alive than I have in a year, and I can't think that's a bad thing." He still wasn't looking at her, but he knew his words had made an impact.

She reached for his hand again, and this time he let her. She was quiet, and he waited. He realized that he would wait for her for the rest of his life if he had to.

"I just wish I knew how to help you," she said, and her voice shook. "I mean… I'm glad that kiss made you feel better," and now her lips lifted in the hint of a smile, and it took all of George's willpower not to kiss them again right then. But her next words wiped that thought from his mind. "But I don't know how it really made me feel."

She might as well have punched him. That was how bad it felt. He'd gone from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows in the space of five minutes, and now he wrenched his hand free of hers.

"Well, if you don't know that it was an amazing kiss, we probably shouldn't have another." He tried to sound as if he didn't care as he turned away from her, but he knew that she would see right through this act. And she did.

"I didn't say it wasn't amazing," she whispered. "It's just… first you're with the rest of us at the grave, and you're not talking to anyone. Then I find you over here, and you start shouting at me. And then you're kissing me. I'm worried about you, George. You're not acting like the guy I've been friends with for eight years."

George turned and stared at her. "Katie, in case you haven't noticed, I'm _not_ the guy you've been friends with for eight years." He knew his voice was getting louder again, but he was helpless to stop it. "_That guy _was happy._ That guy_ was funny. _That guy _made jokes all the times." Without even realizing what he was saying, he suddenly found himself shouting, "_THAT GUY_ WAS A TWIN."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he and Katie stared at each other. His mouth kept working but nothing else would come out. Her eyes were full of tears, and she finally turned from him, her hands over her face, her shoulders starting to shake. It was her pain that brought him back to his senses. The pain he'd caused.

"No, Katie, don't cry," he pleaded, his voice husky. She ignored him. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said all of that. I get so angry sometimes that it scares me, but I never meant to get angry at you. _You're_ not the person I'm mad at."

Slowly, she moved her hands away from her face and looked at him. His heart wrenched. If it were possible, she was even more beautiful now with tearstains on her face and her red, swollen eyes.

"Who _are_ you mad at?" she asked, and he was so mesmerized by the look in her eyes that he simply stared back into them, not even aware that he was answering, not even aware that the word coming out of his mouth was… "Fred."

And then it was out there, and they'd both heard it. The spell he'd fallen under when he looked into her eyes was broken, and he drew back from her in horror.

"I … I need to go," he mumbled, getting to his feet. But before he could so much as take a step away, she's grabbed his leg, and he froze. But he couldn't look at her. He didn't want to see her shock, her horror. What kind of person was he if he could get _mad _at someone he was supposed to love, someone who died and obviously not by choice?

"George," she said firmly. "Look at me."

He shook his head. She didn't let go. "Look at me," she repeated.

He hesitated, but it was clear she wasn't planning on letting go. Slowly, he turned his head to meet her eyes. She shook her head slowly and said, "You're _not_ a horrible person, so stop thinking you are. Of course you're mad at Fred. He wasn't supposed to leave you. But you know what? I think you also know that you love him and that if the situation were reversed, he'd be cursing your name now too."

George turned his head. He couldn't look at her anymore. Katie pulled herself up and waited. Finally, George mumbled, "I'd never want him to feel this way, but I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to feel better, Katie. I don't even know if I'm supposed to."

"I know," she said softly. She opened her arms, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her shoulder. She felt his tears soaking into her neck, and he mumbled, "I hate being mad at him. It hurts so much. I want to remember him without it hurting."

A lump rose in Katie's throat, and her arms tightened around him. And this time, when he let go, she knew she no longer had a choice. She kissed him, and she hoped it would help… both of them.


	30. The best laid plans of mice and men

Disclaimer: Do I really have to keep doing this for EVERY chapter? Who doesn't know by now that I don't own HP?

A/N: This is yet another kind of filler chapter, but it's still important. I definitely planted some foreshadowing seeds in here. There will be more big stuff to come.

When George and Katie finally rejoined the others, they were holding hands. Well, George was actually holding tightly to Katie's hand, and she occasionally squeezed his back. There was a pit in her stomach, but she didn't want to think about that now. Right now, she just wanted George to be as happy as possible.

Neither Angelina nor Alicia missed this new development, and they both stared at Katie in shock. They'd made her promise she wouldn't be anything more than a friend to George before they'd all left for Hogwarts because no one had ever missed the connection between those two, and they knew it would only be a matter of time before she gave in. But this wasn't the right time; they'd all agreed on that, not now with his grief and his neediness. And she'd agreed, but now here she was, _holding his hand_? But for the time being, they stayed silent and forced smiles onto their faces as the group of friends met up outside the graveyard.

"I really should get going," Angelina said somewhat apologetically. She seemed to be addressing mostly George but then gestured to include everyone else as well. "I need to get back home, or my parents will flip. I didn't tell them I'd be coming here after the Memorial because I knew they'd tell me not to."

Alicia scowled. "Yours too? Mine claim they still want to protect me. Part of me always wants to ask why that wasn't an issue when I joined the Order, but when it comes to going to a cemetery, all of a sudden, I'm in danger?" She rolled her eyes. "I need to move out."

None of the boys contributed anything to this conversation. Lee glanced quickly at George and Katie's hands and then looked away. Oliver had his own hand on Alicia's shoulder, and Katie wondered if they, too, would somehow find a way to comfort one another. George was too busy holding Katie's hand to be able to think of anything else. He couldn't quite believe how he suddenly didn't feel lonely.

Angelina and Alicia were now hugging everyone goodbye, and they gave Katie a meaningful look when they got to her.

"Won't your parents want you back now too?" Alicia asked meaningfully, and Katie shot her a sharp look. She was about to say no when George's grip on her hand tightened, and her stomach contracted painfully. She changed her mind.

"You're right," she tried to say grudgingly, and George's hold on her loosened as he looked at her in surprise. She tried to look sorry and not relieved, but she wasn't sure she quite managed it. She kissed his cheek, though, and whispered that she'd talk to him soon. And without waiting for a response, she, Angelina and Alicia disappeared.

This left George alone with Lee and Oliver, and he was feeling increasingly lonely again.

"Want to come back to the Burrow with me?" he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. They both nodded, and they began the short walk back to the house that was once again filled with George's family. As they approached and he saw his mother pass the window, her face drawn and tired, he was reminded forcefully of the days following the Battle last year, and he had to swallow a lump in his throat. It was never supposed to be that hard again.

"Come on in," he said, hoping that Lee and Oliver would provide a welcome distraction for his family. He wasn't counting on it.

They found Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione in the living room, and even though George knew logically that this was good for everyone's sake, he couldn't help but feel like a weight sank onto his heart. Just minutes before, he'd had Katie's hand in his, and now? He was once again sitting with his brother and his girlfriend and his sister and her boyfriend. And he was once again alone.

_No_, he tried to reassure himself as the conversation began without him. _I'm not alone. She'll be back. She just went home. She didn't leave me. No one else is going to do that. It's going to be ok._

"Earth to George," Ginny called, and he broke out of his reverie and tried to smile, but his eyes weren't in it. He saw the flicker of concern in hers, and he knew this would mean another conversation sometime soon. It wasn't going to happen now, though. Not if he had anything to do with it.

"Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about something else. What's going on?"

Before she could answer, he caught Lee looked at him skeptically, and he shot him a look that clearly said, _Say Katie's name, and I'll sneak enough puking pastilles in your lunch to make you upchuck for days._ Lee didn't even realize his hand had drifted up to cover his mouth, and now George actually did smile for real.

Ginny noticed the smile and started to relax. She described their plans to go into Diagon Alley that evening with the renewed hope that George might even say yes. George, on the other hand, had stopped listening once he realized that this plan might actually be his chance to see Katie sooner than he'd thought possible. It was highly likely that she'd go there with friends too, and he wasn't going to miss this chance.

"I'll go!" he said more loudly and enthusiastically than he'd intended, and Ginny's eyes widened in surprise, and now she smiled too. This was exactly what she'd hoped for, and even though she was pretty sure George was still worried about something, there would be plenty of time to find out what. All that mattered to her right now was that he'd agreed to leave the house tonight, something for which she'd not held out much hope.

They all started talking at once, and even Oliver spoke, something that George noticed with some kind of relief. This was far more like the Quiddith captain he knew, and he was ready for people to stop not acting like themselves. (He tried not to think about how he might occasionally make people feel the same way. He certainly wasn't the same person he had been. But he had an excuse, he reminded himself.) Right now, though, he had more important matters on his mind. What would he say if he saw her later? He was scared of how much he suddenly needed her, but this was what it was. And he simply couldn't afford to screw this up.


	31. often go awry

Disclaimer: It is not mine.

A/N: Well, this is one of the longest ones in a while. It went in an entirely different direction from what I expected, but given the circumstances, it seemed both necessary and realistic. I swear I won't keep him miserable forever, though. Not to worry. I love him too.

The night was a complete bust, George thought gloomily. He sat in the Leaky Cauldron, slurping at his beer, glowering over the top of the glass. Harry and Ginny were in an animated discussion about Quidditch with Oliver and Ron, and Hermione was talking quietly with Lee. George studiously ignored the looks the two of them kept shooting him. He knew he'd had a lot to drink, but it wasn't exactly what he'd planned. The whole night was _nothing_ like he'd planned.

Every time they'd gone into a new shop or pub, he'd looked around hopefully, only to feel the familiar thud of disappointment when there was no Katie in sight. Now it was two hours later, and he'd given up and started drinking with a purpose. If he couldn't see her, he might as well try to forget about her, he reasoned when he downed the first beer. Now he was on his sixth … or seventh, he really wasn't sure… and he was mad. He wasn't forgetting. If anything, he was feeling even worse.

Hermione was watching George and knew it was time for him to stop drinking and get to bed. She nudged Lee, and when he saw the look on her face, he leaned fractionally closer to her so she could whisper.

"Don't you think it's time for us to get George back?" she breathed, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. George may have only had one ear, but it was close to her now, and he heard remarkably well out of it.

Lee didn't need to look at his friend to know she was right, and he nodded imperceptibly. "You get it across to Ginny somehow, and I'll talk to him," he muttered.

While Hermione tried to think of the best way to break up this Quidditch conversation, Lee turned tentatively to George.

"So are you ready to be getting back, mate?" he asked. He tried to sound normal, but he didn't even know if George would notice at this point. He was pretty well gone, he thought. But George surprised him.

He nodded morosely. "Sure. There's no reason to stay here." He sounded more sober than Lee expected, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't have to carry him back to his flat. But Ginny, whose attention Hermione had finally succeeded in getting, looked up sharply. She was _not_ relieved that George wasn't slurring his speech. She was worried. Her older brother sounded much worse than he was supposed to. He was supposed to be having fun.

While Lee helped him to his feet, Ginny leaned over and whispered something to Harry, whose forehead wrinkled in concern, but he nodded. He returned to the Quidditch conversation as his girlfriend slipped out of her seat and quietly approached Lee and her brother.

George looked at her blearily. "Hey Gin. Gonna come with us?"

She nodded, her lips pursed tightly to prevent herself from saying something she might regret. She would save that for his flat. Without a word, she, Lee and George maneuvered their way out the door and down the alley to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The objects inside the window looked dusty, and Ginny was surprised until she remembered it had been closed for the past couple of days because of the Memorial. She turned to George.

"Give me your key," she demanded. He fished hopelessly in his pocket and came up empty handed. He looked at her vaguely, and she felt her level of irritation rising.

"Lee, get his key," she said, and Lee made a face at her but gingerly reached into George's other pocket and came up with it quickly. He passed it to Ginny, and she twisted it in the door with a little more force than George found absolutely necessary. Before he could protest, though, he was being marched up the stairs and into his room.

Lee took one look at Fred's unmade bed and bolted. Ginny, having already heard about this from Ron, felt a chill run down her spine, but at least she was prepared. She felt bad about Lee, but she had other problems to contend with right now.

George stumbled into the room ahead of her and collapsed on his bed. After a moment, he realized Ginny hadn't moved, and he patted the bed next to him.

"Why'n't ya sit down?" he asked, and she scowled.

"I don't want to," she returned coldly, and even George couldn't miss the ice in her voice.

"What's wrong?" he asked. He tried to focus, but she was sliding a little to the left, now to the right. He closed his eyes. This was not going to be a fun night. When he opened them again, Ginny was sitting but not beside him. She was on the bed opposite his, the bed no one ever approached. She had the covers clenched tightly in her fists, and he got the distinct impression that she was trying to hold onto Fred's strength, that she needed it for some reason. The thought sobered him up faster than anything else had.

She considered him for a moment before she spoke. Then she said the words he would not have expected.

"Why aren't you trying not to be sad."

It was hardly a question, not the way she said it. He stared at her, and his brain started to clear as the anger he'd been trying to hold down for so long started to find its way to the surface once again.

"Who says I'm not trying," he said evenly. He stared into her eyes, and he hoped to make her squirm, to make her drop this topic, but this was Ginny, and he realized that this was far from over. She had a mission now, and once she got started, there was no stopping her until _she_ was finished.

"How many beers was it," she asked tightly. "Six? Seven? Or did you lose count? You don't _do_ that unless you're _trying_ to forget. You _do_ that if you're _not_ trying to feel better."

George had to look away now. The longer he stared at her, the angrier and guiltier he felt. This was not what tonight was supposed to be, he thought bitterly. This was supposed to be a happy night. He was supposed to be with Katie now, not with his little sister. But here he was with Ginny, and she was still waiting for a response.

"It wasn't that many beers," he finally muttered. "And lay off. You don't understand."

There was a longer silence this time, and George finally looked at Ginny. He recognized the look on her face because it mirrored the one on his. She was trying to control her temper, but it wasn't cooperating. An explosion was imminent, George knew, and he wasn't wrong.

She snapped. "_What _don't I understand? Being sad? Missing him? Wishing this were all a bad dream? Wishing …"

"STOP!"

Ginny jerked back in shock. George never yelled at her. Sure, they all got mad at each other sometimes, and her brothers even used to have fistfights when they were little, but George, of all of them, never yelled at her. And he was yelling now.

"IT'S NOT ABOUT FRED!" He shouted. "IF YOU'D BEEN PAYING ANY ATTENTION, YOU'D KNOW IT WAS ABOUT KATIE."

He was breathing heavily before he realized that even if Ginny _had_ been paying attention, she couldn't have known about Katie. Only Lee and Oliver did, and they wouldn't have told her anyway, not like they'd have even had the time in the last couple of hours. He deflated. He couldn't stand how quickly his anger left him, but he couldn't hold onto it.

The room was silent, he realized, and he forced himself to look at Ginny, and now she was staring at him with a look of mingled compassion and anger.

"How on earth could I have known it was about Katie?" she asked, and it was clear to George that she was trying to control her voice. He shrugged.

"I … I don't know," he admitted. "Sorry. I forgot that I didn't tell you. But yeah. I'd hoped I'd get to see her tonight. She usually comes here most nights, I heard. I hope… I hope she's not avoiding me. I can't… I can't lose her too."

He hadn't expected to say it. He'd hardly expected to feel it. And he certainly didn't expect what happened next. He didn't know where they were coming from or why he couldn't control them, but the tears were running down his cheeks, and he ducked his head as quickly as possible. Ginny had already seen enough evidence of his weakness. She didn't need more. But the words wouldn't stop spilling out his mouth.

"It's just… I like her so much," he whispered. "She makes me feel better, but I'm afraid… Ginny, I'm afraid that I make her feel worse."

And suddenly, it didn't matter whether he was hiding his face or not because he couldn't hide the sobs that he could no longer control, and they burst from him, louder and more violent than they'd ever been before. He covered his face with his hands, knowing that he wasn't hiding anymore, knowing that Ginny was sitting across from him, knowing, even, that if Lee hadn't managed to make his way out of the shop, he could hear every last humiliating bit of this. But he couldn't stop. And when he felt Ginny's arms go around him, he just cried harder. He didn't even know why.

"I'm here," she whispered, "and this was why I was mad. I didn't want this to happen, but I guess it would have happened with or without the beer, huh? Don't worry about Katie, George. I've seen the way that girl looks at you."

Her words helped. Gradually, he felt his breathing start to ease, and he slowly let go of her, sniffling. "Really?" he asked, and she nodded.

She hoped she was right. The last thing she should be giving him was false hope, she knew, but she had to give him some. He needed something that would make him happy again, and right now, that was all she had.


	32. The other side

Disclaimer: So sad that I don't own it.

A/N: I never expected this conversation, but it somehow seemed to fit. The end should make people happier than the last one did. )

Lee hardly knew how he made it out of the shop. He'd stumbled down the stairs and out the door, barely hearing the conversation he was leaving behind. He didn't even know where he was going. His feet just kept moving, and he found his way to a bench outside Flourish and Blotts. Suddenly, he knew he couldn't take another step, and he collapsed onto it, holding his head in his hands.

_If it can look like he's still here, then why can't he be_, he found himself wondering, and the image of Fred's bed hurt all over again. He closed his eyes tightly to forbid the tears. He couldn't do this now, and he certainly couldn't do this here. He'd need to get back to his own flat before he could let himself feel all of this. The only problem was that his feet no longer seemed to want to work.

He took a deep breath. When he'd counted to ten, he'd be ready to get up and go. He'd started to count silently and had gotten to eight when someone sat down beside him. He turned his head slightly, and his eyes widened when he recognized Katie. An entire night of not finding her had caused George to feel worse than he had in ages, and now here she was, sitting beside Lee, having the nerve to look miserable. Somehow, this gave him the strength to speak, but even he didn't expect the bitterness in his voice.

"Nice time for you to show up," he said, and Katie jerked back at the anger she hadn't expected.

"Was I supposed to be somewhere?" she asked tightly, and Lee knew that she was in no better of a mood than he was. The knowledge hardly helped.

"You knew he was looking for you all night," he said, his voice low and angry. "You had to know that."

Katie sighed impatiently and turned away so she was no longer looking at Lee. "We didn't have plans. It's not my fault if he showed up hoping to see me. I can't control that."

"Well," Lee snapped, unwilling to dance around the subject anymore, "maybe you can control the fact that he got completely drunk tonight and is now up in his flat sobbing to Ginny."

Katie's horrified face matched his own. He hadn't meant to tell her that, and the guilt settled in his stomach as his anger dissolved.

They sat in silence, and then Lee mumbled, "Don't tell anyone I told you about that. He doesn't even know that I heard him, and I'm not planning on telling him either."

Katie nodded, feeling like the despair might overwhelm her.

"Can we talk about this somewhere else?" she asked Lee. He nodded, relieved at the thought of getting out of the public eye.

Without another word between them, the pair of friends found their way to Lee's flat, which wasn't too far from where they'd been sitting.

As they walked inside, Lee shoved shoes aside with his foot and motioned for Katie to have a seat on the secondhand couch. She settled herself on the end and curled her legs up underneath her. After offering her the obligatory drink which she refused, Lee took up residence on the opposite end of the couch from her. There was silence for a moment until Katie broke it.

"I don't know how to help him," she said quietly, staring down at the stitching on the startlingly orange pillows.

There was a pause, and Katie inwardly wondered how she'd gotten here, sitting on the couch in Lee Jordan's flat, talking about how to help George Weasley. The world had changed in many ways in the past year, but she could never have predicted this.

"Well," Lee said slowly, not sure if he even wanted to know the answer but feeling the need to ask anyway, "do you _want_ to help him? _Do_ you like him?"

She nodded with no hesitation. "I do. I wasn't sure before, but I thought about it all day. I know I do. It's just… I'm scared that I won't be up to this. It just… it feels like he thinks I can fix everything, and I _can't_. There are things in his life right now that no one can fix. Fred's … Fred's never coming back, and I can't change that." She swallowed hard against the same lump in her throat that rose whenever she said her friend's name. She couldn't look at Lee.

He was glad she wasn't looking at him. He didn't know why she always said the things that managed to hit him so hard. He'd wondered the same thing at the cemetery. Unfortunately, he also knew it was his turn to speak, and he wasn't sure how to do that.

Finally, he said, "I don't think you need to fix everything, Katie. I think he just needs to know you're there."

He was proud of himself. His voice sounded almost normal, and since they weren't looking at each other, she had no way of knowing how hard it was for him to see the couch right now.

"Thanks," she said softly. He'd made sense, and she started to feel calmer. "I know you're right. Maybe I should even go up to his flat now. I haven't been there in a year. I've… I've kind of avoided it. I didn't want to see how different it would look with just George…" She trailed off at Lee's quick intake of breath, but when she looked at him, he refused to look up.

"What is it?" she asked, her concern turning to fear when a tear plopped onto the couch. Her stomach turned to ice. As normal as it had been for Lee to be so upset at Hogwarts and at the cemetery, she'd never seen him like that before, and she hadn't expected to ever see it again. She must have said something, but she had no idea what it could have been.

It took Lee even longer to answer her this time, and now, his voice didn't sound at all like he wanted.

"It's not different at all," he choked, and he turned away, hoping she wouldn't ask him to explain. He didn't think he could say another word, but he didn't need to. The cushions shifted beneath him as Katie moved closer to him, and he froze. She needed to stay away if he were to have any hope of controlling himself. The closer she got, the harder it would be. But she didn't care. It hurt her too much to see him hurting, and she put her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm fine," he tried to say, but his voice was strangled, and she didn't move.

With a sob that burst from him, he finally turned back. It was too late now anyway. She was here, and he wouldn't be able to hold on long enough for her to leave. He flung his arms around her, and she held him tightly as he shook with sobs.

His words were incoherent, but he was talking, and she caught something about the room and the bed and the sheets. She understood enough to make her dread going to see George, but she also knew it wouldn't be enough to stop her. She'd made her decision.

Once Lee calmed down, he pulled back from her and drew his hand across his eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his face flushing. This was the last thing he'd ever wanted to have happen, and Katie knew it.

She said quickly, "Stop that. There's nothing to apologize for."

He smiled weakly but couldn't help himself from saying, "just between us, right? You won't tell Alicia or Angelina?"

Katie gave him a look of disgust that brought an unexpected smile to his face. "Ok, ok," he said, putting up his hands in surrender. "I know you won't. And thanks."

She smiled. "Thank you too. I think I'm going to go to George now."

Lee felt himself sag with relief. Maybe… maybe things could actually get better for a change.


	33. The more things change

Disclaimer: If only I owned it. But I don't.

A/N: There are obviously more conflicts ahead for other members of the family as well as the characters in this chapter. I'm trying to stay true to the original story even as the plot continues to take on a new life of its own.

George was starting to feel calmer when he and Ginny heard footsteps on the stairs. She was still sitting beside him on his bed, and she got up to peek out the door.

"Oh, hey Ron," she said, and she stepped back to let their brother into the room. Neither George nor Ginny missed the glance he cast toward Fred's bed or the look of longing that flitted across his face. He tried to school his expression as he shifted from one foot to the other. It was clear that he did not want to sit on the unmade bed, but there wasn't much room left on George's.

"Are you two coming back to the Burrow tonight?" he asked. Ginny nodded, but George hesitated. She turned to look at him.

"I think you should come back," she said softly, and he looked at her for a moment and then nodded.

"Ok," he said. He looked up at Ron. "Is everyone else ready?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. Can we go now?"

It was suddenly clear to both Ginny and George that this room was having an effect on Ron that he was desperate to avoid.

"Sure," Ginny said quickly, eager to steer clear of yet another breakdown if she could help it. She stood, pulling George up after her. "Let's get going."

Ron turned and led the way quickly down the stairs, his brother and sister trailing after him. Hermione and Harry were waiting for them in the shop. Oliver had split from them at the Leaky Cauldron. He'd had no desire to go to the joke shop. The day had already been hard enough without any more reminders.

No one spoke when they all gathered together. Ginny glanced around and sighed. Hermione and Harry were clearly trying to avoid looking at George, thinking that's what he would want. George didn't seem to mind that in the slightest and kept taking furtive peeks at his reflection in the windows. Ron was simply staring at his feet, not looking at anyone. It was up to Ginny to take the lead. Again.

"Everyone ready to go back?" she asked and was unsurprised when four heads nodded but no one spoke.

"Count of three," she said resolutely. But she'd only gotten to two when there was a knock on the door, and they all turned in surprise.

It was Katie. Ginny and George exchanged a look, and he said quickly, "you all go on ahead without me. I'll meet you at home later."

Without another word, Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione popped out of the shop, and George made his way to the door slowly. They watched each other through the glass as he fiddled with the lock. When he finally got the door open, she stepped inside silently, closing it again behind her.

"I'm – I'm sorry," she whispered, and George stared at her, his mouth falling open slightly.

"Why?" he asked hoarsely, suddenly nervous. He didn't know why it suddenly seemed like everything depended on her answer.

"I do care about you," she said, her mouth dry. "I'm sorry I left before. I should have stayed."

She reached for his hand, and he took hers and held it tightly.

"Want to come upstairs?" he asked almost shyly, and she nodded.

They walked up side by side, and she steeled herself for what she was about to see. It didn't escape her notice, though, that George didn't think to mention it. If Lee hadn't told her, she didn't know how she would react.

As it was, even the advance warning hardly helped. She froze, and George saw it. He followed her gaze to the bed and then let go of her hand as he sank onto his own, staring down into his lap. Katie remained where she was, and after a moment, George whispered, "I understand if you want to leave. I can't change it, though. I'm sorry."

It took a moment for his words to register, and then she shook herself and crossed the room to sit beside him. He wouldn't look at her, and she rested her hand on his knee.

"I'm not going to leave," she said softly. Now he looked up. She tried to smile, but it fell flat. She forced herself to say what he knew she was thinking. "Why won't you change anything?"

George shrugged. How could he answer this question? He wouldn't change anything because that would mean he accepted this life. He could never – would never – accept this life.

"This is who I want to be," he said simply. "Fred and George lived in this room. If it's just George… then it's not me."

Katie swallowed hard, surprised by how calm he sounded. She squeezed his knee, and he covered her hand with his.

"I understand," she whispered. "It's just… don't you think he'd want you to have your own life now? Wouldn't you have wanted that for him?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. I don't know what he'd want." He tried to speak evenly, but her questions were hurting him as much as he wished they weren't. He was so glad she was there, sitting beside him, but she was forcing him to think about something he'd refused to discuss with anyone, including the members of his own family.

Now he knew she was looking at him in surprise, but he couldn't meet her eyes. "You don't know what he'd want?" she repeated. "If anyone would know, George, I'd think…" He didn't let her finish. He couldn't. He couldn't have this conversation anymore no matter who she was. It was just too hard.

"Of course you'd think I'd know," he said shortly, "but I don't. I can't. I never will again. I can tell you what I think he'd want, but I'll never be able to ask him. And since I'll never get to hear his voice telling me either I'm a pathetic git or the most loyal brother ever, I'll pretend I can. And in my head he's telling me to keep his stuff where it is," and in his head he concluded silently _... even … even if his voice has suddenly started sounding an awful lot like mine._

He swallowed a lump in his throat. He'd never said this to anyone before, and emotions he could hardly control were washing over him, but he clenched his jaw. He couldn't give in again. He would just scare her away. Because he was staring down, he didn't see the impact his words had on her.

Katie's eyes were full of tears as the extent of George's pain suddenly became clear.

"I'm sorry," she whispered for the second time that night. "I didn't realize how hard everyday must be."

"Yeah," he said shortly. He swallowed again, painfully, and then forced himself to look at her. "But you make me feel less lonely," he said honestly, and this time he wasn't scared. Her eyes as she looked back at him made him feel braver than he had in months.

"I'm glad," she whispered. Slowly, they leaned towards each other. And as he kissed her, relaxing into the comfort of her presence, all he could think was, _she's still here because I'm ok. I_ _can't break down again._


	34. the more they stay the same

Disclaimer: I wish it were mine. It isn't.

A/N: Back to the rest of the family now. (I still can't quite believe the number of reviews. Thanks for the continued support and encouragement.)

A subdued group apparated back into the Burrow. Molly and Arthur were asleep, and the living room was empty of any other Weasleys. Ron went straight into the kitchen without a word to anyone else, and Ginny walked straight up the stairs without a backward glance. Harry and Hermione looked at each other miserably.

"Don't you feel like maybe we should leave?" she whispered. "I mean… I don't really want to or anything, but I can't tell if we should still be here or not."

Harry nodded. "I know. I don't really want to go, but I feel like… maybe they should have time to themselves or something."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and each knew the other was thinking the same thing. How could they do this without hurting anyone's feelings? Finally, Hermione spoke.

"How about this? You talk to Ron, and I'll talk to Ginny. It'll be less… charged that way."

Harry's eyes widened. "Good idea. I wouldn't have thought of that." Then he smiled slightly. "Which is why I'm friends with you," he added, and Hermione smiled too. It faded quickly.

"Let's do it now?" she asked, and Harry's smile vanished as well.

"Yeah, ok. I'll meet you back in here."

Hermione nodded and then disappeared up the stairs. Harry took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted by a comfortingly familiar sight.

Ron's back was to him as he stared into the refrigerator, so Harry quietly took a seat at the table. It didn't take very long, though, for him to realize that Ron probably wasn't looking for food. His sniffling had been masked by the hum of the refrigerator, but once it clicked off, the sound of Ron's pain was suddenly magnified, and Harry felt his stomach clench. Suddenly, Hermione's idea didn't seem so brilliant after all.

He was about to sneak back into the living room and abort the plan when Ron spoke.

"Why do we keep pretending things can be normal?"

Harry stared at the back of his friend's head. This wasn't what he'd expected him to say. Well, he didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this.

"What – what do you mean?" he asked softly, and Ron froze. Harry suddenly knew that he'd thought he was Hermione.

"Nothing," Ron muttered, keeping his back to Harry. He couldn't believe he said that to Harry, and he felt the color creeping up his neck. And he was sure, too, that Harry had heard him crying, and his ears felt hot now too.

Harry squirmed in his own seat but somehow found himself unable to leave even though he knew it was what Ron most devoutly wished he would do. All he could hear was Hermione's voice in his head shouting at him to _say something_, and he knew that if he didn't, her voice wouldn't just be shouting in his head.

"I'm sorry, mate," he said, keeping his voice low. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Ron still didn't close the refrigerator or turn around. He closed his eyes, the cool air on his hot face more soothing than he'd thought it could be. He let out a shaky breath.

"I know you are," he managed to say. "Thanks."

Neither of them spoke again until Ron finally straightened up and closed the door. He sat at the opposite end of the table from Harry, keeping his face carefully turned away from his friend, and Harry studiously did not look at him.

Finally, when Harry thought Ron would never say another word, he did, mumbling, "It's just… we had that whole thing at Hogwarts this morning, and then we're going out to Diagon Alley tonight and acting like things are normal?"

Harry felt his throat tighten. "I know," he muttered, afraid of what might happen if he tried to say more. He swallowed hard.

His silence, though, only seemed to encourage Ron to continue. "Just because the Memorial's over doesn't mean things can go back to normal. Fred's still not…"

Now he couldn't continue. His eyes were filling again, and he blinked hard, trying to control himself. This was _Harry_, he reminded himself, not Hermione. He couldn't do this here. But … a memory suddenly came back to him, unbidden, of destroying the Horcrux. Harry had understood, even then, how hard certain things could be, and he'd never said anything to Hermione about it either. And that was a good thing because Ron suddenly knew that he couldn't control this anymore no matter how hard he tried.

He looked up and straight at Harry, his eyes stinging. "It's just… I want to know when it's going to get easier," he mumbled, and then he dropped his face into his arms. He gave up.

Harry felt his own lip trembling as he stared at his best friend, suddenly aware for the first time of how much pain Ron was always trying to hide. He understood, too. He did the same thing. Maybe now was the time to stop hiding.

He forced his mouth open. "I don't know when, but I know it does," he said. "I mean… I still miss Sirius, obviously. I still wish I had my parents. But I can live my life and even enjoy it without them because – well – Luna told me once that the people we love never really leave us. And you probably don't remember this, but when Sirius disappeared through the veil that night," and here he had to stop for a moment because his voice was trembling. He'd never actually said this to anyone before, and he didn't know if he could. But he realized that Ron's breathing seemed calmer, that he was waiting, and he knew he had to. So he swallowed hard and continued. "Well, I heard voices behind it. Luna did too, and I think it was because we'd both lost people we'd loved. I bet if you went back there now, you'd hear voices too."

Now he couldn't have said another word if he'd tried, but it didn't matter. Ron was looking at him again, and his eyes were brimming with tears.

"I wish I could hear his voice," he choked. "Sometimes I think that's the hardest part."

Harry nodded, his own eyes full. "I know," he mumbled. And suddenly, he also knew what he needed to do. He got out of his seat and moved down the table to sit next to Ron. He put his arm across his shoulders and was unsurprised when Ron turned and threw his arms around him. He hugged his friend tightly, and as Ron shook against him, Harry knew that he and Hermione couldn't leave the Burrow any time soon. He needed Ron just as much as he always had, and he knew that, right now, his best friend needed him too.


	35. Upstairs with the girls

Disclaimer: It's not mine. Sadly.

A/N: I can't believe this chapter is longer than the last one when I dreaded writing it and had _no idea_ how it was going to go. It jumped from my fingers, though. Apparently, Ginny wanted her story told much more than I'd realized. (And I also realized that girls talk to each other a lot more than boys do. But that should not come as a surprise.)

Hermione reached the top of the stairs and Ginny's tightly closed door. It had never before seemed to be closed tightly, but standing before it now, it took all of Hermione's considerable willpower to raise her hand and knock. For a long moment, there was no response, and then Ginny grudgingly called, "Come in."

Opening the door slowly, Hermione wasn't surprised to find Ginny with her nose in a book, looking for all the world like she'd rather be doing anything than having yet another conversation. Hermione silently resolved to make this as fast as possible, took a deep breath, and plunged in.

"So Harry and I were talking downstairs," she started. Before she could continue, Ginny looked up.

"About us, I assume," she said, and Hermione was stung by the bitterness in her voice.

"What. – what are you talking about?" she stuttered, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice.

Ginny voice was cold. "Well, it just seems obvious. We're a hot topic of conversation these days. Didn't you see the people in the pubs we went to tonight? They couldn't take their eyes off those poor, poor Weasleys. Those looks they were giving George certainly couldn't have _helped_ his frame of mind."

She snapped her mouth shut and returned to her book. Hermione stared at her, her mouth fallen slightly open.

"Ginny… I really don't know what you're talking about. I know you're upset, but…" but Ginny cut her off.

"Oh. Do you?!" she asked, her voice rising. She didn't know why she was so furious, but she couldn't control her anger anymore even though a small part of her brain knew that Hermione was probably the least deserving target. "Of course you know I'm upset. Everyone knows _just_ how we feel. Everyone understands. Everyone lost a brother, so everyone can TOTALLY RELATE!"

She screamed the last two words, and her breath was coming in quick gasps, her eyes filled with angry tears. She swallowed hard and made a conscious effort to lower her voice. The last thing she wanted was another person in her room right then.

"_No one _understands, Hermione. No one knows what it's like to be one of six after being one of seven my whole life. No one knows what it's like when your big brothers, the ones who always tormented you and teased you but always, _always_ protected you are suddenly the ones needing your protection. No, Hermione. _No one_ understands."

She pulled the book back up in front of her face. She couldn't look at her friend's face anymore because if she did, Hermione might see the tears in her eyes, and the last thing she thought she could handle now was her friend's gentle sympathy. She was trying to hold onto the anger because she knew that if she released it, the pain would be worse than any she'd let herself feel in a long time.

But there was no stopping Hermione when she thought one of her friends needed her, and as much as Ginny had tried to convince herself otherwise, she had seen the tears in her friend's eyes, and she knew what she had to do. Steeling herself for what she knew was to come, she stepped across the room and sat down beside Ginny.

Quietly, she whispered, "I'm sorry," and just sat there, not touching her, not looking at her. There was silence. Finally, Ginny whispered, "I know. It's just – it's hard when they all expect me to be the strong one. And I know they do. But I can't be all the time, Hermione. I just can't. I lost Fred, too."

And the lump in her throat that she'd been trying so hard to swallow suddenly dissolved, and Hermione felt the bed shaking under them as Ginny finally gave into the tears that she was always trying to repress. Without a word, Hermione reached over and wrapped her arms around her friend, holding on as tightly as she could. It didn't fail to occur to her that Ginny was an awful lot like Ron. Neither of them was particularly good at expressing their emotions, and they always held everything in until they just… burst.

It took Ginny a long time to calm down, and when she was finally able to speak again, she pulled herself out of the hug, wiping her face on her sleeve.

"Thank you," she whispered. Her breathing seemed to be calming down, and Hermione's own breathing started to ease. She gave Ginny a small smile.

"Feeling any better?" she asked, and Ginny nodded, sniffling.

"I am. I don't … I don't even know where that came from," she said apologetically. "And I'm so sorry I yelled at you. I don't know where _that_ came from either. You didn't deserve that."

"It's ok," Hermione tried to reassure her. "You were due for that. You and your brother are both often due for things like that. Neither of you gives in enough, you know."

Ginny looked at her in surprise and then nodded slowly. "I know you're right. Ron and I don't have _that_ much in common, but I know we're alike when it comes to stuff like this. Neither of us is particularly good at feeling."

Hermione tried not to laugh. "And that's the understatement of the year." Ginny smiled too, but then it faded.

"Honestly, though. You know I didn't mean to yell at you."

"Of course," Hermione said softly. "Today was a hard day, Ginny, and I have the feeling your night didn't end all that well either when you went up to George's flat…" she trailed off, unsure of whether or not Ginny would even want to talk about this, but she was not surprised when an expression of pain crossed her face. She nodded briefly.

"It was bad, Hermione," she mumbled, the memory of George's tears causing her to swallow hard. "He wasn't – he wasn't doing so well," she said shakily, and she sighed. Hermione shifted closer to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

"Well, I'm sure he was glad to have you there," she said calmly, giving Ginny a chance to regain her composure. "And he seemed happy to see Katie when we were leaving, so maybe he'll be better by the time he gets back here."

Ginny nodded but said nothing. After a few minutes of silence, she said, "I hate when people stare at us."

Hermione moved away so she could look at her. "Honestly?" she asked, and Ginny nodded. Hermione shook her head in surprise. "This'll probably shock you, but I really didn't notice. Does – does that happen a lot?"

Ginny shrugged. "I guess it depends on where we are. At Hogwarts today, no one looked because everyone else was in the same boat, so to speak. But whenever a few of us go out together, we get those awful pitying looks, those 'poor dears' looks – and I _hate_ it," she said, her voice suddenly vehement. "If they get a chance to talk to us, it's even worse. Honestly, you'd think we were the first and only people to ever go through this, and we're _not_. But they make it so much harder when they act like we are."

Hermione sighed. "I wish I knew a solution," she said, "but there will always be people who will act like that because they want to be the ones you're going to talk to." Now she smiled, and Ginny looked at her questioningly, wondering what she could possibly be smiling about. "Well, they obviously don't know you _or_ Ron. Let them try to talk to either one of you. If _I_ can get a word out of either of you, it's usually an accomplishment. I'd like to see them_ try_."

Ginny laughed weakly. "Good point. Maybe next time, I'll send them your way for pointers."

Hermione laughed appreciatively. "Good idea."

There was a silence now, but it was a comfortable one, and after a few minutes, Ginny said, "Ready for bed?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, but I need to go brush my teeth. I'll be right back."

Ginny put down her book and stood up, stretching. "Ok. I'll be here. Probably sleeping."

"Good," Hermione approved, and she walked out of the room. She had to go back to the living room to find Harry. She had to tell him that she wanted to stay.


	36. Best friends

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own it.

A/N: Sorry for the longer-than-usual delay, but I've been sick and completely unable to sit in front of the computer for any extended period of time. Happily, that seems to finally be going away, so you get a new chapter. I hope it doesn't reflect my weakened state of mind. ;)

By the time Hermione got back downstairs, Harry was waiting for her in the living room, and Ron was nowhere to be seen. She looked at Harry quizzically, and he patted the couch beside him, encouraging her to sit.

After a moment of silence as each tried to figure out the best way to break the news to the other, they both said at the same time, "I want to stay." 

They turned to one another, surprise written plainly on each of their faces – surprise that turned quickly to concern. They glanced back down at the couch, and Hermione was the first to speak.

"How – how was Ron?" she asked, and Harry winced. He still hadn't figured out how much to tell Hermione and how much to let her figure out on her own. He settled on shaking his head meaningfully and hoping she'd understand. Her answering cringe showed that she did. He cleared his throat.

"How was Ginny?" he asked, and Hermione sighed.

"I think she needs a lot more help than she's been getting," she said slowly, and Harry felt himself stiffen with indignation.

"I've _tried_ to," he started to say, but Hermione looked up, and he stopped speaking when he saw the look in her eyes.

"I know you have," she said softly, "and I'm not saying any of how she's feeling is your fault. I just know that she feels very alone and like everyone _else_ is relying on her. And I can't say I blame her," she added. "They can't help it, of course, but her brothers definitely are. I'm not sure about you," she hastened to say, thinking she'd offended him. But Harry wasn't angry.

"It's just…," he started, and as Hermione looked at him questioningly, he found that he had to look away. He cleared his throat. "It's just hard," he said. "I want to be there for her, of course, but whenever I try, she pushes me away. But then whenever I'm – upset," he said, flushing and avoiding Hermione's eyes, "she's there. I _can't_ avoid her. I don't understand how she's so good at avoiding me."

He turned away from her, and Hermione sighed and pushed her hand through her bushy hair. She wanted to reach out to Harry, to squeeze his shoulder, to tell him she knew how he felt, but she knew better than to do any of that right then, as much as she wanted to, because she knew how much this was upsetting him. As good as he might have been at avoiding his emotions with most people, she wasn't one of them, and she honestly thought that any more charged conversations in one night would make her head explode. Instead, she looked straight ahead as she spoke.

"I don't think you've pushed her enough," she said distinctly. Harry turned to look at her in surprise, almost against his will. His eyes were suspiciously bright, but Hermione chose to ignore this.

"Listen," she said. "You know Ginny, and you know how hard it is for her to open up. But she loves you and she trusts you. You just… you can't let it go. You have to _make_ her talk."

Harry looked at her for a long moment and then was forced to look away. "But I don't know _how_," he choked. His voice was strained, but he forced himself to continue. "Look, you know I love her too. And you know I trust her. So I open up to her. But I can't _force_ her to do the same, can I? And Hermione, she _won't_. And what … what does that say about how she feels about me? I know you said she loves me and trusts me, but it doesn't feel that way when she won't talk to me."

Hermione stared at the back of his head, stunned into silence. These were the last words she'd expected to hear, and Harry was the last person she'd ever expected to have relationship problems, but here they were, and now she had no choice. Slowly, she reached out and put her hand on her best friend's shoulder. It was trembling, and he didn't turn around, but he reached up to cover her hand with his own.

He couldn't believe himself. He couldn't believe how upset he was getting about this when there were so many more things to be upset about, but he couldn't seem to stop the tears. Hermione wasn't saying anything, but he could only imagine the look on her face even though he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He swallowed hard and sniffled.

"Sorry," he grunted, and he felt her squeeze his shoulder for an answer. He wiped his eyes quickly, and then he forced himself to turn back although he dreaded having her see his face. The look of sympathy she was giving him was overwhelming, and he had to swallow the fresh wave of tears it almost provoked. Mercifully, she spoke, so he wouldn't have to.

"She does love you," Hermione said softly. He stared at her blankly, and she nodded. "I know she does. You know it too. I think – I think she just might be scared to let herself show it. Harry, you've lost people before. You know that caring about someone new is a risk, but _you_ also know that it's a risk you have to take if you want to go on with your life. Ginny's never really lost anyone before, and even though I think she knows this intellectually, emotionally, she's not there yet. You did leave her once – even though you both know it was out of love. You're just going to have to keep showing her that you're not going anywhere ever again. She might just need a little more time to really _know_ that this time, you're here for good."

Harry thought about this for a moment. He shook his head and sighed.

"You do know that you're always right, don't you?" he asked. His voice still didn't sound entirely normal, but he was glad that he could use it again, and Hermione smiled. She was glad too.

"Well," she said, a hint of her old know-it-all coming back, "I have heard that once or twice before."

They both laughed, Harry's a weak imitation of his own, but it was enough to restore the conversation to some sense of normalcy.

"Are you going to go up and talk to her now?" Hermione asked, and he nodded, a hint of resolve appearing in his eyes.

"I am," he said. "And – and you should go see Ron," he added.

She looked at him and saw everything he was afraid to tell her in his eyes, and she sighed.

"I will," she said. As they made their way up the stairs, she turned to him and said, "I hope you realize that you and I are essentially dating the same person."

Harry stared at her for a minute before he understood what she was saying, and this time his laugh sounded a lot more like his own.

"You're right," he said. "Scary, isn't it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she turned off at Ron's bedroom. "More like terrifying."

She was about to raise her hand to knock when she felt Harry's hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he said, and he surprised her by pulling her into a hug. "Thanks," he murmured into her hair. "I don't – I don't know what any of us would do without you."

Hermione hugged him harder, a lump in her throat. "Thanks," she whispered, and then she shoved him away. "Go to Ginny."

He smiled sheepishly at her and continued on up the stairs. She looked after him for a moment before quickly drying her eyes and turning back to Ron's door. Her life might have been easier if she'd found girls to be friends with, she thought, but these boys– they were her family.

A/N (Part 2): It only seems fair to have one more chapter to wrap up these couples and then get on to the next day and get back to George and everyone else.


	37. Couples reunited

A/N: After 37 chapters? Nope, it's still not mine.

Disclaimer: Here's my first split chapter, I think. And I'm excited to get back to the rest of the family after this. I feel like they really have been waiting patiently, don't you?

Ginny was in bed, relaxing, when she heard a knock on the door. Confused, she called for Hermione to come in. Why on earth would she be knocking now? Ginny wondered. She didn't know why she didn't expect it to be Harry.

He stood framed in the doorway, the light from the landing behind him lighting his hair and making him a shadow that Ginny had to squint to see. But she knew it was him. She'd always known it was him.

"Come in," she said softly as she watched him hesitate, and without a second thought, he stepped into her bedroom, closing the door behind him. As both of their eyes adjusted to the dark, he found his way to the cot that was set up for Hermione and sat on it, afraid to get too close to Ginny, afraid of how he would feel if she didn't want him there.

For a few minutes they sat there, and Harry stared at his knees, wondering how to start. He didn't have to think for long. Ginny spoke first.

"Hermione told you, didn't she." It wasn't a question. She knew the truth, and he knew there was no use denying it, so he nodded, but he still avoided her eyes.

"She said –, " he paused. He didn't know how to say this and not make Ginny angry. And he didn't think he could handle it if Ginny got angry. He took a deep breath. She'd know if he were lying. He didn't have much of a choice. "She said that too many people are relying on you, and not enough of us are looking out for you."

There was silence, and Harry was still afraid to make eye contact. But then he heard the last noise he'd ever expected, and he looked up sharply. Ginny was sniffling.

"Ginny, I …," he started helplessly, but then she looked into his eyes, and he lost any other words he might have been able to say.

"Just – just come here," she said, her voice wavering, and he somehow managed to stand up, to walk over to her bed, and to wrap his arms around her. He held her tightly, his lips pressed to her hair, as she shook with the tears she didn't even understand.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and he felt her move restlessly against him. "I wish there were something I could do. Is there? Is there _anything_ I can do?"

She shook her head and managed to say, "I wish you could. Just stay here with me, ok? I need – I need you to stay here with me."

Harry's heart ached as he listened to her shaky breathing, but he held her even more closely. He didn't speak, but he didn't need to. They both knew he would never let go.

* * *

Ron sat on his bed, staring at his book of _12 Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_. He wished it could distract him like it used to, but it couldn't. He didn't know why he was looking at it tonight. Tonight it wasn't making him laugh. Tonight … it hurt. 

There was a knock on the door, and he rubbed at his eyes quickly, clearing his throat.

"Yeah," he called, trying to deepen his voice, quickly holding up the book so Harry wouldn't look at him too closely.

He heard the door open, and then there was silence. Then, "You still think you need to read that book?"

He froze. Hermione was the last person who should see this book (even though she had claimed on other occasions to know of its existence). But he was still afraid to put it down, so he continued to hold it up as a shield. He didn't answer.

Hermione sighed. This was way too reminiscent of the conversation she'd already had with Ginny, and she couldn't help but remember what she'd just told Harry. They really _were_ dating the same person.

This time, though, she had a slightly better idea of how to handle it. For one thing… she wasn't afraid of Ron. He might get angry, but she'd had plenty of practice with his anger. She couldn't think of anyone she'd fought with more in the past eight years.

She made her way over to the bed and sat down so she was facing the cover of the book. She didn't speak. She knew he'd need the time.

Finally, he tried to joke it off. "It's Harry's book, you know," he tried to say off-handedly, but the strain in his voice was still there.

"Uh huh," Hermione said. She knew she didn't sound convinced, and she didn't know why Ron was even talking about the book, but she went along with it. "Sure it is. I know he has one, too, but I know you got it for him. I just want to know who got _you_ this one."

It was the wrong question. It was the absolute wrong question, but there was no way she could have known that. Slowly, he lowered the book inch by inch, and it was suddenly very clear to Hermione that they weren't joking anymore.

She took one look at his trembling lip and the tears he was desperately trying to blink away, and she knew.

"The twins?" she asked, her own voice suddenly trembling, and he nodded. Without another word, the book fell to the bed beside them, and her arms went around him, holding on as tightly as she could.

"I want it to get easier," he rasped, "but I don't ever want to forget Fred. I don't know – I don't know how to do that, 'Mione."

"Neither do I," she said honestly, still not loosening her grip. "But we'll figure it out together."

Her shoulder was damp, but she felt him nod against it, and she knew they had their work cut out for them.


	38. Year Two

Disclaimer: I will never ever own Harry Potter.

A/N: Ok, and now it's back to the rest of the family. It was hard to figure out how to readjust them all to a new day and a new year. I hope this works.

The next morning dawned grey and cool. While Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all seemed to have calmed down from their tumultuous night, by mutual silent consent, none of them seemed to be in any mood to leave the comfort of the Burrow. It was just a day that seemed made for staying inside and reading, and Hermione was more than glad to do just that. Harry and Ron, however, were bored.

Once they'd all finished eating breakfast, Molly went to Shell Cottage to check in on Bill, Fleur and Vicky. Arthur was in the shed, fiddling with Sirius's old motorbike, and George and Percy were still up in their rooms asleep. (Ginny had cracked open the door to the twins' room on her way down to breakfast to be sure George was actually in there. She was relieved when she saw his tousled head asleep on his pillow.)

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had merely adjourned to the living room when they'd finished eating. The boys sat together in the corner of the room, shooting dirty looks at the fire where both Hermione and Ginny were curled up with blankets and books.

"Can you believe they just want to sit there and read," Ron muttered darkly to Harry, who shook his head in disgust.

"Well, of course," he answered, his voice just as low. "Hermione would rather sit and read than do pretty much anything else, and she got to Ginny before we did. So, yeah. I can believe it."

Neither girl looked up during this conversation, but this was because, while Harry and Ron had no problem complaining about this to each other, they were too smart to do it loudly enough to be heard.

Finally, after minutes of the boys alternately sighing and rolling their eyes, they were all distracted by a clatter of footsteps on the stairs. Ginny looked up quickly, and Harry realized that while she might have agreed to read, she was still worried about George. When he entered the living room, he nodded at all of them and then fumbled his sleepy way into the kitchen.

Harry and Ron looked at each other and shrugged. They were about to join George in the kitchen under the assumption that at least he'd talk to them when they were startled by Ginny suddenly marching past them in that very direction. They sank slowly back into their seats and resumed their study of Hermione (Ron) and the fire (Harry). They both knew better than to go in the kitchen now.

Ginny sat down at the kitchen table and watched the back of George's head as he tried to figure out what to eat. He pulled cereal from the cupboard and turned around, jumping in surprise when he saw his sister sitting there watching him.

"What's the idea!" he exclaimed, taking a deep breath and settling down beside her. "You couldn't have said something?"

She shrugged. "Guess not."

George pulled a face, and she returned the favor. The two sat in silence for a minute while he poured his cereal, and then Ginny finally said, "If you don't tell me what happened, I have no problem going right to Katie myself, you know."

George's lips twitched in a smirk.

"You wouldn't dare," he said, trying to sound serious.

"Oh yeah?" Ginny asked, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw a twinkle that reminded him of the one he used to see across the room every night before he fell asleep. His smile faded. The game was over.

"It was fine," he said, his voice suddenly subdued, and Ginny's own smile vanished.

"What happened? Did something go wrong?"

George relaxed. This was more like Ginny and a lot less like… well, this was Ginny again. He managed a small smile.

"No, nothing went wrong. It was good. She was… it was good," he repeated lamely. The memory of the kiss came floating back, and his smile widened. Ginny relaxed.

"Good," she said, returning his smile. "Glad to hear it."

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and then she said, "Are you going back to the shop today?"

George surprised both of them by shaking his head.

"I think… I think I want to go to Shell Cottage and see Bill. I didn't really get a chance to talk to him yesterday after we all got back, and I feel kind of bad about it."

Ginny stared at him, but she nodded slowly. "Ok. Well, Mum's there now. If you go soon, you'll see her."

George looked at Ginny skeptically. "Like that's a goal? She'll want to know why I got in so late last night. That's not really a conversation I want to have. She heard me when I got here."

Ginny bit her lip to keep her curiosity in check. Now she wanted to know the answer to that question, and George knew it. He winked at her.

"State secrets, Gin," he said, taking the last mouthful of cereal, and she swatted at him.

"You and your state secrets. You always told me I'd inherit them someday, you know. I'm not giving up on that."

And George was forcefully reminded of when he … when _they_ … used to say that, and once again, nothing seemed funny anymore.

"I need to get ready," he said, standing up from the table, moving mechanically toward the stairs. He needed to keep moving. He needed to not remember.

_Katie likes you_, he reminded himself as he went back up the stairs, well aware of Ginny staring after him, bewildered. _You need to keep it together if you want her to keep liking you, and if that means blocking out the things that hurt, well… so be it._


	39. Shell Cottage

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine. Not mine.

A/N: Well, this was a challenge after reading ncis-lady's masterful chapter about Bill and George. But I did like she said and just wrote it, and of course, it didn't turn out at all like I'd expected. Get ready for another cliff hanger. (Bad mum… this chapter's for you.)

George waited in his room until he heard his mother in the kitchen, and then he apparated to Shell Cottage. He had no interest in seeing her at all that day if he could help it. The look on her face when he'd gotten back from seeing Katie spoke volumes, and he didn't need to hear her say anymore.

When he arrived at Bill and Fleur's, his sister-in-law answered the door. Her expression seemed to indicate her surprise, but she merely ushered him into their living room.

"Bill ees een the uzzer room with Victoire," she said, her expression softening when she said her daughter's name. "Why don't you go join zem? I am sure Victoire would like to see 'er Uncle George."

He nodded and tried to smile. "Thanks, Fleur," he said. He walked into the nursery in time to see his oldest brother lifting his daughter into the air and nuzzling her. Victoire squealed with delight and grabbed at her father's very red ponytail, and this time George did smile.

"Mum always said you should cut your hair," he observed, and Bill spun around, a smile on his own face.

"Well, you just hush about that. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. And she certainly doesn't need to know that she was right about my hair. Can you imagine? I'd never hear the end of it."

George acknowledged this undeniable fact, and he waited while Bill finished dressing Victoire.

"Want to come with me?" he asked George when he was finished, indicating that he was planning on taking the baby outside for some fresh air. George nodded. As much as he loved Bill's new home, the best part was undeniably outside. The view they had was spectacular, and it always brought George to some sense of perspective.

As he, his older brother and his niece made their way through the living room, he caught the look that Bill exchanged with Fleur, and he moved faster. That was what he wanted, he thought. He wanted that kind of unspoken understanding. He wondered if he'd ever that with Katie. _Not if you're hiding your feelings_. It resounded in his head and sounded an awful lot like Ginny's voice, and he shook his head. What did she know anyway?

Once they were outside, their steps slowed. They approached Dobby's grave, and George inexplicably felt his eyes stinging when he looked at the tombstone Harry had carved himself. Why couldn't Dobby have survived, he wondered. Why couldn't Fred…

No. Thoughts like those were off limits now. He swallowed hard. He could do this. He sensed Bill watching him, and he turned to face his brother.

"What?" he asked defensively, knowing, somehow, that he was issuing Bill a challenge. He just didn't know what the challenge was.

"I was just wondering what you were thinking," Bill responded mildly, and George scowled.

"Nothing," he retorted, and Bill eyed him skeptically.

"Uh huh," he said, and all of the doubt was evident in his voice.

"Nothing!" George repeated. He looked away and started walking again. Slowly, Bill followed. George stopped a few feet away and was staring out over the waves when he became aware of his brother now standing beside him.

"Why did you come here today," Bill asked quietly.

George shrugged. "I guess… I guess I just felt bad that I didn't get to talk to you again before we left Hogwarts yesterday. I know it was a tough day for you."

Bill didn't respond, and now George was afraid to look at him. Neither of spoke for a few minutes, and then Bill said, his voice unnaturally deep, "Thanks."

George swallowed hard again. Bill wasn't making this forgetting thing any easier. He was the one who was supposed to be best at control. He was the oldest.

_Well, maybe if he can't keep it together all the time, you can'__t expect yourself t__o._

It was Ginny's incredibly annoying voice again, and George shook his head, trying to get it out of there. That was ridiculous. Even if Bill got choked up, it didn't mean he had to follow suit. He had a mind of his own. He didn't need to do everything his older brother did.

He was startled, suddenly, to hear Fleur behind him.

"I will take her, honey," she said softly, and now George turned. His eyes widened when he heard Bill's choked assent and watched as Victoire reached out to stay with Bill as Fleur took her away. Once Victoire was firmly ensconced in her mother's arms, Fleur reached out and gently touched Bill's scarred face, resting her hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes, the tears slipping out from under the closed lids, and Fleur gently wiped them away before turning and taking Victoire back inside, leaving George alone with his older brother.

The lump in George's throat was choking him, and speech was now impossible. Bill pinched the bridge of his nose and took some deep breaths. Finally, he opened his eyes, and he turned to look at George.

"Sorry," he said, his voice still strained. "I don't know where it comes from sometimes. It just kind of hits me."

George nodded. He couldn't possibly have needed anything explained to him less, but he couldn't tell Bill that. He couldn't tell Bill anything at all. Bill looked more closely at him, but now George hurriedly looked away. He would be ok. He wouldn't think about why Bill was crying. He wouldn't think about what it could be like to have someone like Fleur understand and wipe away his tears. He wouldn't think about why there were tears in his eyes now or why they burned so much when he tried to blink them away. He wouldn't think. It could only hurt.

"Why are you trying to hide?" Bill asked. His voice was incredibly gentle, more gentle than George could ever remember hearing it, but he still couldn't answer. He shook his head and turned away, but his feet wouldn't carry him. And then Bill walked around him so he was facing him, and he couldn't hide anymore.

"No," he whispered, his voice strangled.

"No, what?" Bill asked. He was obviously confused, but he also knew to stay calm.

"I can't… I can't do this anymore," George tried to say, but his lips were trembling so much that the words were almost unintelligible.

"Can't do what?" Bill was genuinely trying to understand.

"I can't let this happen anymore," he grated through pursed lips. "It would scare Katie."

Why did he say her name, he wondered, as the sob he'd been trying so hard to repress finally erupted. He covered his face with his hands and tried to turn again, but this time, Bill grabbed him and pulled him in, holding on tightly. As George shook with sobs, he managed to say, "It should be easier now. You said it. But it isn't. Why – why did you lie?"

Bill stiffened in shock. Before George realized what was happening, he was suddenly alone again. Bill had bolted.


	40. George's return

Disclaimer: Forty chapters and still no ownership.

A/N: Wow did this chapter go in an entirely new direction. I kind of like the divergence, though… even though the cliffhanger continues. Sorry about that. I guess… (I know, I know. I'm mean.) (Oh, the other time George was in the office refers to the night Arthur was attacked by Nagini.)

George didn't go back inside right away. The guilt was starting to overtake him, and he felt even more miserable than he had before if that were possible. This wasn't Bill's fault, and he knew it. He stared out over the bluff, taking deep breaths, blinking hard to clear his eyes. He couldn't go back into Fleur like this. She was probably already mad at him for saying what he said to Bill. He didn't relish facing her again, but he knew he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he turned around to walk back. He might as well get it over with.

When he got to the cottage, Fleur was sitting in the kitchen with her back to the door, attempting to feed Victoire. She didn't turn around, so George cleared his throat uneasily. When she looked up, she looked… confused? Why didn't she look angry, he wondered. And then she asked the question that made his heart sink.

"Where ees Bill?"

George's mouth was dry. He opened it, but nothing came out, and a slight wrinkle appeared between Fleur's eyes. It somehow made her look even more beautiful, George realized distantly.

"George? Where ees he?"

He shook his head. "He – he didn't –," he stuttered, and he found he couldn't finish. He didn't need to. All of the color drained from Fleur's face, and she suddenly looked angrier than George could ever remember seeing.

"What did you say to heem," she said slowly. George stared at her, a pit forming in his stomach.

"I didn't mean to," he said desperately. "It just – it just slipped out. I was upset, and it just slipped out!"

She slowly rose out of her seat and fixed George with a glare that caused him to swallow hard.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, suddenly feeling as though his legs would no longer support him. He sank on to the couch, and she advanced on him.

"What did you say to heem," she repeated, but George shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered. "It just – I was wrong. I knew it right away too. I wanted to apologize, but he just kind of disappeared. I thought he came back here. I don't – I don't know where he is now."

Fleur shook her head in frustration. "Well, that ees just great, George. And now neither of us know where he is, and he's upset, I'm sure?"

George nodded miserably, and Fleur ran her hands frantically through her hair.

"Oh, I don't know what to do," she said, casting a glance at where Victoire had now thoroughly immersed herself in mashed carrots. She sighed. "I'd better get in touch weeth Charlie. He's ze only person who might be able to help now."

George looked at her sharply. "Charlie? Why Charlie?"

Fleur cast him a nasty look. "Well, in case you hadn't noticed, everyone else is zis family relies a leetle too much on Bill. Charlie is the only one who actually seems to realize that Bill might not be having an easy time with this eezer."

George found he couldn't look at his sister-in-law anymore. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more ashamed of himself. "I'll go find Charlie," he mumbled. "I'll do whatever I can."

Fleur considered him for a moment. She'd been so angry that she was just now taking in his red and swollen eyes. Her own expression softened.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I will wait here with ze baby."

George nodded. He stood up and walked to the door. Fleur watched him go and was unsurprised when he stopped in the doorway and turned back.

"Please –," he started, but she stopped him.

"I will not tell your parents unless I have to," she said with a little more understanding in her voice than George really wanted to hear. His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard, turning on the spot. He needed to get Charlie, and that meant he needed to get to Hogsmeade.

* * *

When he arrived in Hogsmeade, he was happy to see that very few people were out and about. He didn't feel like running into anyone he knew, and he somehow made it into Hogwarts without that happening. He realized, though, that he didn't have the faintest idea where to find his brother. There was no help for it. He was going to have to talk to someone.

He was trudging along the hallway of the castle when he saw Professor McGonagall, and she stopped and stood quite still when she caught sight of him. He stopped too and stood before her, uncertain.

"Well," she said quietly. "Mr. Weasley. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

He couldn't answer. To his horror, there was a lump in his throat again. Why McGonagall, of all people, should have this effect on him, he had no idea, but he didn't like it. Not one bit. He swallowed hard.

"I'm looking for my brother," he tried to say, but he knew she couldn't understand him. He knew that she also understood why because her normally severe expression softened, and he had to look away because he didn't want her to see. He didn't want anyone to see.

She glanced around quickly, noticed the other students in the hallway, and took George's elbow. If he'd been more in control, he'd have jumped back in shock, but he was in no condition to argue now, let alone see clearly. She pulled him gently to the stone gargoyles which now guarded the staircase outside her office, murmured a word he couldn't hear, and then pulled him onto the moving staircase that he'd only ever been on at one other time in his life. He tried – unsuccessfully – not to think of that time now.

When they reached the office, George stood aimlessly at the top of the landing. McGonagall moved ahead of him to her desk, attempting to seem busy, and he knew what she was doing. He couldn't even appreciate it, though. Because as he looked around this office he'd only seen one other time in his life, one memory stood out above any other. Fred had been by his side.

His eyes filled with tears, and he turned away, hiding his face. She wasn't looking at him anyway, but he couldn't take the chance. The tears were flowing freely now, and he tried to control his breathing. It wasn't working. Nothing was working all of a sudden. He was back in the one place where he hadn't wanted to go, and now he was losing it, and he was losing it in front of Professor McGonagall. It didn't get much worse than this.

He heard clinking behind him, but he didn't turn. He couldn't. McGonagall knew him as one of a pair of happy-go-lucky troublemakers. He couldn't let her see him like this. But then she spoke.

"George," she said softly, and he flinched horribly. He couldn't remember her ever saying his first name. He didn't turn around, though. Then she said it again, more firmly this time.

"George Weasley." Her voice still held some of the authority that used to command his reluctant obedience, and he found himself facing her, his head down.

She was sitting at her desk now, he could see out of the corner of his eye, and she was looking at him steadily. He knew there was no choice now. Casting all of his pride to the wind, he looked at her.

Her expression did not change at all, and he was silently grateful. She continued to speak as though this were just any other meeting in her office.

"Why have you come here today?" she asked. Her tone was businesslike, but there was a hint of compassion that he tried not to hear. He couldn't handle that now.

"I need to find Charlie," he said. His voice was weak, but at least she could understand him now.

She nodded. "Would you like to stay here? I can send someone to find him and bring him here."

A small part of George's mind reeled at this unexpected kindness, and he found himself suddenly feeling the urge to turn, to look for Fred, to exchange looks of shock. It was an urge he'd managed to repress for a year, and to feel it again now stabbed like a knife. As his eyes filled again, he merely nodded. Fred wasn't there to share his shock. He was alone. And he couldn't remember when he'd felt worse.


	41. Charlie's pain

Disclaimer: Oh, It's not mine. Who doesn't know that by now.

A/N: And the saga continues. I hope George starts to figure things out pretty soon. I think he will.

Charlie was crossing the grounds to Hagrid's hut when a first year found him. He couldn't help but smile inwardly when the kid approached him nervously. First years were always nervous. He couldn't remember if he'd been that way, but he did remember when the twins were. They'd tried to hide it, though… No. His smile faded. This was not the right time to think about that now. Not with this kid standing before him, waiting.

"What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound too brusque, but the kid squeaked anyway.

"Professor McGonagall sent me to find you, sir. She – she said to tell you that she needs to see you in her office as soon as possible."

Charlie looked at him in surprise. This was unexpected.

"Ok. Thanks."

The kid nodded and backed away, and Charlie turned immediately and walked back towards the castle. She wasn't someone to keep waiting, and he was starting to worry. He had very little contact with McGonagall, so this had to be something fairly important.

When he reached the gargoyles, he realized he wasn't sure of the password, so he sent his patronus ahead, hoping to receive a quick response. He was unsurprised seconds later to find himself on the moving staircase. He reached the top and was about to clear his throat when he realized that the professor wasn't the only person waiting for him. There was someone else in the office. And it was the last person he'd ever expected to see.

His heart was in his throat as he completely forgot about McGonagall. He rushed to George and was about to shake him and demand to know why he was there and what was wrong – when he stopped short. George was staring at the ground, but when he looked up, Charlie could see that he was white as a sheet. He seemed to be having trouble breathing deeply, and his eyes were red. If he were this close to the edge in McGonagall's office – and in her _presence _– well, it couldn't mean anything good. It also meant that Charlie would have to do this very carefully.

He crouched down beside his brother and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Is – is everyone ok at home?" he asked quietly, and George looked at him for a moment before shaking his head slowly.

"N—no," he managed to say, and Charlie suddenly felt very cold.

"Who is it," he asked through numb lips, and George's voice wavered when he answered.

"I don't – I don't know where Bill is. Fleur sent me to find you. I said something to him that I probably shouldn't have, and he just kind of – disappeared. Fleur thought you stood the best chance of finding him."

Charlie let out an explosive breath. He stared at George, making a determined effort not to get angry.

"What did you say to him?" he asked. He tried to keep his voice calm, but he felt his patience begin to fray when George shook his head.

"I need to know why he's so upset," Charlie said slowly. "You have to tell me."

George shook his head again. "I – I can't," he whispered. Without even realizing what he was doing, he glanced at McGonagall, and then he looked back down quickly. Charlie and the Headmistress exchanged a quick look, and then she stood up.

"I have a Transfigurations class to teach," she announced. "You can use this office for as long as you need to. I'll be back later."

Charlie tried to send his gratitude in a single look, and she nodded at him slightly. She was halfway to the staircase when she turned and looked at George.

"Mr. Weasley," she said, and he looked up automatically. They studied each other for a moment, and then her expression softened. "We all miss him," she said, "but you should know that for as much trouble as the two of you used to cause, you just left that much of a legacy here. None of us will ever forget the Weasley twins."

She didn't wait for a response, and George couldn't have been more relieved. The moment she'd gone, he covered his face with his hands, and Charlie stood and watched him. He didn't move. He merely waited for a minute until he lost any patience he had left.

"What. Did. You. Say. To. Bill."

His hands still covering his face, his voice muffled, George recounted the conversation at Shell Cottage. When he finished talking, he kept his face hidden. Charlie was silent, seething with the fury that had gripped his sister-in-law just hours earlier. But while Fleur had taken pity on George eventually, Charlie was showing no signs of feeling the same sort of compassion. In fact, the longer he stood and watched his little brother sitting before him in tears, the angrier he got.

George didn't want to look up. He didn't feel like dealing with Charlie's anger, and he didn't have the energy to face it. Not right now, at any rate.

"Look," he finally said, his voice low. "I was wrong. I know it. But right now, that doesn't matter. We just have to find him. Do you have any idea where to look?"

Charlie had to take a deep breath before answering, but when he did speak, his voice was like ice.

"I think I know where he might be," he said shortly. "But maybe I should go by myself. I don't know if he'd want to see you right now."

George stared at Charlie. "I need to apologize," he said, hating the sound of desperation in his voice. "I _have_ to go with you."

Charlie looked at him for a moment before nodded grudgingly.

"Ok," he said. "But the first words out of your mouth had better be, 'I'm sorry.' Because that kind of guilt is the _last _thing Bill needs right now. He feels responsible enough for no reason."

George nodded. "I know," he whispered.

Without another word, the brothers left the office. They didn't speak as they walked, and George was so busy keeping his head down that he barely realized where Charlie was leading him. If he had, he'd have found a reason not to go. But as it was, they were in the hallway, staring at the plaque on the wall, before George realized where he was standing. His body felt cold with shock. This was the one place he'd NEVER wanted to go.

He rounded on Charlie, suddenly furious.

"Why did you bring me here?" he demanded, and Charlie's eyes narrowed.

"Why do you think you're the only person who thinks this is hard?" he countered, and George jerked back as if Charlie had hit him.

"I don't!" he denied, but Charlie's eyes hardened.

"Of course you do," he said coldly. "And trust me. We all know it's hard for you. Mum has told us enough times just in case we weren't sure. But I also know that Fred was my brother too. And he was Bill's and Percy's and Ron's and Ginny's. We're ALL hurting. It's not just you."

"I know that!" George cried, anger rising in him again. "But do YOU see Fred's face every time you look in the mirror?"

Charlie stared at him. "Yes."

It was all he said, but it brought George up short. Charlie did look more like the twins than the rest of their siblings did. Maybe he did get it. George didn't know what to say. After a moment, he asked, subdued, "Well, why are we here _now_?"

Charlie just looked at him. He wanted his eyes to be expressionless, but George now read a pain he hadn't before, and his older brother knew it. He struggled to keep his voice expressionless when he answered.

"Because," he said shortly, gesturing to the alcove behind them, "Bill is in there listening to every word we're saying right now."

George looked to the alcove, surprised. "He is?"

An answering muffled sniff was all the confirmation he needed.


	42. Brothers

Disclaimer: No matter how many chapters I write, I'll never own it. The end.

A/N: Katie will come back soon. Don't worry.

They heard it again, and George froze. These weren't noises Bill was supposed to make. But Charlie saw George's involuntary movement, and the look on his face became deadly. Even George was aware enough to shrink back from him.

"Don't you dare even think of leaving now," he hissed. He tried to keep his voice low so Bill wouldn't hear him. "You're here, and he knows it. You leave, and things get that much worse. STOP. LEAVING."

George stared at his older brother, his mind racing. "Stop leaving?" He snapped, his voice shaking. "_Stop leaving_? In case you hadn't noticed, Charlie, _I'm_ still here. _I'm_ not the one who's left. _Ginny_ left to go play Quidditch. _Bill_ left when I was talking to him today. FRED LEFT."

The brothers stared at each other, and George felt as though he had just been doused with icy water. He might have thought it once or twice; he might have even screamed it in his head, but he'd never, NEVER wanted to say it. Fred hadn't left him. Not really. Well, he wouldn't have if he could've helped it, right?

Charlie was staring at him, and the anger he'd been trying to control erupted again. "Are you KIDDING me?" he shouted, forgetting his previous admonition to be quiet. "You're going to blame all of THEM? YOU'RE not the one who's been leaving? Have you talked to ANYONE in the past year when you haven't been forced to?"

George's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. He felt some of the old fury that used to wash over him when he was younger, and Charlie would take advantage of his own superior height and strength to torment the twins. But this time he was on his own.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he finally muttered mutinously. "So shut up."

Charlie let out a short laugh, and he stared at George mockingly. "Ok, I'll shut up. Because you know I'm right. Because you know that you left this family just as much as Fred did. But Fred didn't choose it. You did."

Words failed George, and he rushed at Charlie. Charlie's instincts took over, and he quickly stuck out his leg, sending his younger brother crashing to the ground. But he lost his own balance when George reached out and grabbed him, and the two were grappling with each other, each trying to gain the upper hand, when Charlie felt himself jerked backwards.

He looked up in surprise, but his surprise turned to shock when he saw Bill standing over him, his face drawn.

"Is this the way to solve things now?" he asked, and the defeat in his voice was clear. He let go of Charlie's collar and slumped against the wall behind him. George slowly got to his own feet, his face red. None of them spoke for a moment, and then George turned to his oldest brother.

"Bill, I'm really sorry," he whispered. "I never meant to blame you. None of what I'm going through right now is your fault. I know that, and I hope you do too."

Bill didn't look up, and Charlie said, "Listen to him, mate. He might be a git sometimes, but what he just said is true. Stop feeling guilty for things that aren't your fault."

Bill sighed. "Fleur sent you both here, didn't she," he said, but it wasn't a question.

George didn't look at Charlie. He merely nodded, his eyes fixed on Bill. His oldest brother shook his head.

"She worries too much. But in case either of you were wondering? I'm fine. Thanks for your concern."

The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable, and George and Charlie both winced.

"We're – we're sorry," Charlie whispered. "We came here for you. We just –," he stopped. He didn't know how to continue, to explain what had just happened.

Bill fixed him with a stare. "I heard all of it," he said. "And I think you're both idiots. Since when did this become a competition? Since when aren't we all in this together? I never heard George say he's the one who's worst off or that the rest of us shouldn't feel bad. Did you?"

Charlie looked down, shame written plainly on his face. "No," he whispered.

George stared at the ground. He felt slightly vindicated, but he also knew Bill still had more to say that he probably didn't want to hear. He was right.

Bill stared at George. He didn't _know_ how to say this. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"George?" he asked, and George looked up automatically. One look at Bill's face, however, brought a lump to his throat, and he quickly looked back down. Bill stared at the top of his head, his own throat constricted. He coughed.

"George, do you really think I left you? That _Fred_ left you? Do you really think any of us would do that?"

George was quiet for so long that neither of his brothers thought he would answer. And then he whispered "Yes." He couldn't say any more. If he tried to speak again, he knew the lump in his throat would dissolve, and he'd be crying. And he'd done more than enough of that already today.

Charlie looked up. He was angry again, and Bill could see it. He sighed. He would have to act fast before Charlie could.

"George," he said, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible, "you have to know that none of that is true. You have to know that Fred would still be here if he'd had the choice. He had no choice, George. He would never have left you if it had been his choice to make. We all know that, and you knew Fred better than anyone, so why don't you?"

George still didn't look up, but he let out a shuddering sigh. His eyes were stinging, and he closed them, shaking his head.

"Logically? I do," he said, his voice strained. "But it still feels like he left me all alone. I love all of you. You know that. But Fred…" he trailed off. Why did this still hurt so much? he wondered. When would it ever not hurt this much?

He still hadn't looked up, so he didn't see the look his older brothers were exchanging nor did he realize that they were crouching down on either side of him until he felt a hand on each shoulder.

"We love you too," Charlie whispered, and George turned to him in surprise. He'd expected Bill to comfort him. He'd expected Bill to say they loved him. He did not expect this from Charlie. And it was this unexpected kindness that caused the lump in his throat to dissolve. Without another word, he turned away from Bill and into Charlie's shoulder.

The three sat in a clump on the floor, Charlie's arms around George, Bill rubbing George's back, and tears streaming down all of their faces. None of them spoke, but the look that Bill and Charlie exchanged said it all. George needed more help than they could give him. They'd need to get him home.


	43. More disappearing acts

Disclaimer: Not. Mine.

Bill and Charlie helped George off the Hogwarts grounds slowly. It took a while because their younger brother refused to look up, unwilling to let anyone get a good look at him, and both of his brothers completely understood. Once they reached Hogsmeade, Bill took George by side-along, and they and Charlie found themselves in the garden of the Burrow, face to face with a very surprised Molly.

Before she could say a word, George bolted for his bedroom, leaving his older brothers behind. They exchanged a quick look of dread before submitting to their mother's glare. Molly was waiting.

"What on earth is going on?" she demanded, her voice escalating in concern. "Why are you two here in the middle of the day, and what's happened to George?"

Bill took one look at Charlie and sighed. It was once again his job as the oldest to take charge. He knew how _that_ went.

"It's not a big deal, Mum," he tried to say, but he could see from the look on her face that she didn't believe him. He didn't blame her. He wouldn't have believed himself either, not with the way he sounded and the way he knew he must have looked. He glanced quickly at Charlie who gave an infinitesimal nod. Bill shook his head. There was no way out of this now.

"George came to see me today," he said quietly. "We kind of … well, we had a talk, and it didn't go very well. I had to get away from everyone, so I went to Hogwarts. He came to find Charlie; the two of them found me, and … well … we decided he might be better off at home for a while. I think that things are harder for him than he's been letting on."

Molly's eyes had filled with tears, and she reached out and touched the side of Bill's face. He had to close his eyes as her familiar scent worked its usual power and brought tears to his eyes. None of them spoke for a moment, and then Charlie cleared his throat.

"Mum, I should really be getting back to Hogwarts. Hagrid will be looking for me…"

He trailed off as she turned her formidable glare on him, and he knew very quickly that he wouldn't be leaving the Burrow any time soon. He didn't say another word as Bill took over the conversation.

"I need to get back to Fleur because she'll be worried, but maybe we'll come by for dinner tonight. Would that be all right?"

The look his mother gave him made both of her sons laugh, albeit weakly. "Honestly Bill," she admonished him. "Do you really think you need to ask a question like that? We'll be here when you get back. And you'd better get here early so I can have as much time with my granddaughter as possible."

Now his smile came more easily. "You've got it, Mum. We'll be back soon."

With a pop, he disapparated, and Molly took Charlie's arm as they walked into the house.

"I think you and I need to have a talk," she began, and Charlie let out a deep breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. It was clear from the sound of her voice that this was a conversation he would not want to be having.

* * *

When Bill reappeared at Shell Cottage, Victoire was down for her nap, sleeping peacefully, but Fleur was pacing in their living room, her hands running through her long hair, muttering to herself in French.

For some reason, Bill paused before he entered the room. He watched her pace, and in spite of the guilt he felt for causing her such aggravation, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude rush through him. What he'd ever done to deserve someone who loved him so much, he didn't know, but as he watched her, the concern for his own well-being evident on her face, he did know he would never take her for granted. Taking a deep breath, he slowly walked into the room.

Fleur whirled around at the sound of his footsteps, and at the sight of his face, she sagged with relief.

"Oh, Bill!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. "I was so worried! Are you okay? George would not tell me what he had said to you, so I did not know…" She trailed off, and Bill held her to him tightly. He didn't answer her. He just needed to hold her, and she seemed to understand.

It only took Fleur a few minutes to realize that Bill was clinging to her more tightly with every moment that passed, and she slowly maneuvered them over to the couch without a word, easing him down beside her while still keeping her arms around him. Once they were sitting, he pulled her to him even more tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

Fleur rubbed his back, murmuring to him in French. She knew he only understood half of what she was saying, but she also knew that nothing she said right now really mattered. He just needed to know she was there.

Finally, he drew back and immediately looked away, mumbling an apology. Fleur reached out and took his chin in her hand, turning him back to face her. He did reluctantly, but he refused to meet her eyes.

"Bill, please look at me."

Her voice was more serious than he ever remembered hearing it before, and he forced himself to look up. The sympathy in her eyes was overwhelming, and he felt tears rush to his eyes again, and he tried to blink them away. But she saw, and she squeezed his hand.

"Please, Bill. Please tell me what happened to upset you so much."

He shook his head and looked away again. "I can't," he whispered, struggling to keep his voice steady. "It's … it's just that I keep thinking I can fix things, Fleur. I keep thinking I can make things easier for them, but I can't. And at the same time… how can I expect to when nothing feels any easier for me? I just – I miss him. I really do. He was my little brother, and now… now I have to say _was_, and…"

He had more to say. He really did. But the lump in his throat was strangling him and making him sound like a dying animal. He stood up abruptly and walked to the window. He was staring out through blurry eyes, trying to blink away the tears that had found their way to the surface, when he felt Fleur's arms encircle him again.

"Stop running away from me," she whispered. She stood behind him, her lips pressed to his back, and she could feel him trembling. She didn't speak for a moment, and then she said even more quietly, "I love you, Bill. I know how much you are hurting, and I want to help you. Please let me try. "

He sighed deeply. "I love you too," he whispered hoarsely, still not turning around. "And you do help. You have no idea how much."

They stood together, staring out the window. Neither of them had anything more to say.

A/N: Next chapter will be back to the Burrow with Charlie's conversation with Molly. Other characters find their way back in as well. Sorry I couldn't keep up the Fleur accent in this chapter. I totally lost patience with it. Just imagine it all sounding very French.


	44. Mothers and sons

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I played with a new-ish interaction here. I think I only addressed it once before in my other story, Left Behind. I PROMISE to get the rest of the family back in here in the next one.

Luckily for Molly and Charlie (or unluckily, as Charlie thought gloomily), no one was in the kitchen when the pair walked in from the garden. Molly gestured for Charlie to sit down in his usual seat at the table as she bustled over to the stove, flicking her wand as she went. A teapot and two mugs soared toward her lazily, and she mumbled distractedly under her breath as she set the water to boiling. Once she had the preparations well under way, she joined her son at the table. He, naturally, suddenly seemed to find the wooden surface to be incredibly fascinating.

Molly watched him for a moment, a sad smile creasing the lines in her face. Charlie had always been her difficult one, harder to reach than her other sons, more likely to keep things to himself. But at the same time, she knew he often felt things most deeply. And just because she'd been rushed up the hill into Hogwarts on the day of the Memorial didn't mean that she wasn't perfectly aware of what she was being rushed away _from_. She had turned in time to see Bill slip inside Hagrid's hut, and she was quite smart enough to put two and two together to figure out why.

Molly loved all of her children more than she could ever express; she also understood them. The sight of Fred's body had filled her with dread for so many reasons, not the least of which was her other sons. Ginny could cry and carry on and not have anyone look twice at her (even though she never would). But her boys – well, they would be just as devastated as Ginny, obviously, and it made Molly so sad that they wouldn't freely express that.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, causing Charlie to look up at last.

"What is it, Mum?" he asked, his voice low. She studied him, and he looked back down at the table, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.

"Charlie," she said gently, knowing she'd have to tread carefully here. "What happened today that's upset you so much?"

Now he looked up sharply. "Mum, _George_ is the one who's upset. _I'm_ fine."

The expression on Molly's face went from compassionate to skeptical.

"Charlie. I am your mother. Stop that right now. You know that you might be able to lie to other people, but it doesn't work here. So stop trying."

He stared at her. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not lying. In case you didn't notice, George is the one who's in his room right now, shutting out the world. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes," his mother said slowly, "you're here. But you don't want to be. And I want to know why."

Charlie let out an explosive breath. "I want to be here," he said slowly. He was trying to stay calm, and his mother knew it. She also knew that she had the power to ruin this tremendous effort, but she hesitated.

"If you wanted to be here, you wouldn't have tried to disapparate from the garden before we even got in the house," she pointed out casually, and he flushed.

"I told you. Hagrid's got some interesting new creatures he needs my help with. It had nothing to do with being here."

He lied so unconvincingly that he didn't blame his mother for the look of disbelief she gave him. He looked back down at the table. He couldn't look at her right now. He just couldn't.

Molly's voice wavered as much as she tried to control it. "I don't understand why you're lying, but if you're not comfortable talking to me, then I guess there's nothing I can do about that. You can go back to Hogwarts if you want. And I'll be here whenever you do want to talk."

Without another word, she got up and walked over to the stove. Her back to Charlie, she took a deep breath and immediately regretted the guilt trip that she'd just sent his way. As much as he didn't believe anyone understood, she did, and she also knew the last thing he needed on top of everything else was this kind of guilt from her.

She sighed and turned around, ready to apologize – and stopped short. Because Charlie – her second born, her tough dragon tamer – was still sitting at his place at the table. His head was still down, and he was still not looking at her. But his shoulders were shaking, and she heard the sobs he was trying to fight – the sobs he always tried to fight.

Slowly, she made her way back over to him. She took her seat again and put her hand lightly on his shoulder. When he didn't jerk away, she began to rub his back with small, soothing circles.

Charlie tried to control his breathing, tried to calm down, but it wasn't working, and he found himself saying everything he'd promised himself he'd never tell anyone in his family.

"It's just – it's not just hard for him, Mum," he finally choked out. "I miss him too. I – _I'm _the one who never got to say goodbye, remember?"

"Of course I remember," Molly soothed, swallowing hard. There was no way to make this better, she realized, nothing she could do to ease her child's pain. She continued rubbing his back, trying desperately to think of something, of anything that could help.

"I know it's hard for you too," she said finally. "I know Fred was your little brother, and I know how much you wish you could have been there. But Charlie, he always knew you loved him. You know that."

He nodded, but he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. "I do," he said, his voice choked. "But it still hurts. It hurts a lot."

"I know," Molly whispered. She pushed her chair closer to his and put her arm across his shoulders. "And I'm sorry if I've acted like George is the only one who's in pain. I know you are too. But we're all in this together, and we'll all get through it together too. All right?"

He wanted to say all right; he wanted to agree with her and have this conversation just go back to normal. But he couldn't. And he wanted to. He wanted to so badly.

When he didn't answer, Molly knew why.

"Come here," she murmured, and he couldn't even resist as she pulled him into her arms. As soon as her arms went around him, he gave up entirely. She hugged him tightly as his tears seeped into her shoulder, and her own eyes watered.

It was hard to see any of her children in pain. But it always hurt the most when it was Charlie.


	45. Family dinner

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: This one took a while for some reason, but I'm finally ready to put it up. Things should start lightening up PRETTY soon, I think. Katie still needs to make a reappearance. I am well aware of that.

George sat in his room, motionless. He'd been doing nothing else for the last couple of hours. He was home, he kept telling himself. He was safe. But… he wasn't. The Burrow could never really be safe again. He couldn't even try to pretend that things were normal here. If anything, it felt less normal here than anywhere else. If there were any place in the world where Fred should be by his side, it was here and in the shop. And of course, George thought, his eyes filling for what seemed like the 50th time that day… those were the two places he couldn't avoid.

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. Things were supposed to be getting easier now. The anniversary was over; the memorial was over, and he was supposed to be feeling some kind of relief. So why, then, did he feel this overwhelming emptiness? Why did he feel just as bad right now as he had a year ago? It just didn't make sense. And he didn't like it at all.

A knock on his door startled him out his reverie, and he drew his sleeve quickly across his eyes before tousling his hair to get it into his face.

He cleared his throat. "Come on in," he called, trying to sound as normal as possible. He was pretty sure he'd failed miserably.

The door opened a crack, and Percy's glasses shimmered in the light from the landing. He cleared his throat uncertainly.

"I can – I can come in?" he asked, and George nodded mutely. He wasn't going to pretend he wasn't surprised. He didn't know who he'd expected, but it certainly hadn't been Percy. But it was too late now to withdraw the invitation, and his older brother walked in, closing the door behind him, and took a seat on the one chair that wasn't covered in clothing.

Neither of them looked at each other for a little while, and then George mumbled, "Mum sent you up here, didn't she?"

Percy didn't answer for a minute, and George finally looked at him. He looked back steadily, and his eyes were tired.

"Everyone's downstairs now. She asked which of us wanted to come up," he said wearily. "Ginny figured we should leave you be, so she said no. Harry stayed with her, and Ron wanted to stay with Hermione. I'll be surprised if he ever lets her out of his sight again."

George smiled slightly. "I can see that happening," he mused. But then something occurred to him. "Where are Charlie and Bill?"

Percy shifted uncomfortably. "Bill went home for a bit, but Mum says he'll be back for dinner. Charlie's … in his own room."

There was something stilted in his answer, and George could see that he didn't want to pursue this particular conversation. He coughed nervously and changed the subject back.

"So you got the short end of the stick, in other words?"

Percy stared at him. "I didn't have to come up either. I wanted to. I want to know – well, we all want to know how you're doing."

Now his voice was gentle, and George had to look away. He blinked hard, angry with himself for not being able to keep it together even during the simplest conversation.

"I don't know," he finally managed to say, but he didn't look at his brother. "I don't know how I'm doing, ok? I don't know why I can't stop thinking about … everything; I don't know why I suddenly feel the same horrible emptiness I did a year ago; I don't know why I can't just seem to get better."

Now the blinking wasn't even helping, and the tears slid down his face as much as he tried to control them. But Percy heard his labored breathing, and he stayed quiet. He didn't move, and he didn't look up. He thought it was quite likely that he hadn't seen the twins cry since they were little kids – and certainly not throughout all of their years at Hogwarts – and he couldn't imagine that George would want an audience now.

George swallowed hard, trying to take deep breaths, to quell the sobs that were threatening to erupt again. _It's Percy_, he admonished himself. _Think what Fred would say if he knew you let Percy, of all people, see you like this. You never let _him_ see you like this, for Merlin's sake_.

He was still giving himself this stern pep talk when Percy spoke.

"I think," Percy began, "that it's hard now because you know it's forever now. It's not like you didn't know that before, of course, but it's been a year, and he's still not here."

His voice was growing increasingly strained as he talked, and now George was really determined not to look up. This was hard enough, but if he saw Percy crying? Well, then there would be no hope for either of them.

The silence that fell was heavy with tears. It was a long time before they could resume their conversation, and when they did, they tried desperately to sound normal.

"Do you want to go down to the living room?" Percy asked. "I bet dinner will be ready soon. Mum was cooking up a storm when I came up here."

George nodded. He still didn't trust his voice entirely. Without another word, the two left the bedroom.

The entire family was there, sitting around and talking, but as Percy and George descended the stairs, a silence descended on everyone else. No one seemed to know what to say until Ron blurted, loudly,

"What are we eating, Mum?"

Harry and Hermione covered their mouths, trying not to laugh, but Ginny wasn't as successful. She snorted, and Ron flushed.

"What?" he asked defensively. "I'm hungry."

At this, everyone laughed. "Ron," George said bracingly, forgetting for a moment that his eyes were swollen and his nose was red, "you're always hungry."

Ron glanced at George and quickly realized that this was probably the best thing he'd heard all day because it meant that George was talking normally again. He grinned sheepishly.

"Fair point," he conceded.

Conversation resumed at a normal volume even though Charlie was sitting off by himself, and Percy wasn't saying much to anyone. Bill, Fleur and Victoire showed up as well, and Molly was enjoying the sounds of talk and laughter from the adjoining room as she finished preparing dinner.

Then they all sat down to eat. And there was talking and there was laughter. But Arthur Weasley had a frown on his face, and it was for one very simple reason. This was an echo, he realized. Things would never be the way they'd been before the war, and that was never any clearer than it was tonight. Yes, George was somehow managing to smile. Yes, Ron and Ginny were clearly in love with Hermione and Harry. But every time he looked at his second oldest child, he knew that they still had a long way to go. Because Charlie was usually as funny and as mischievous as the twins – as George, he silently corrected himself, swallowing hard – and now he was silent. He was silent, and the anger in his face was unmistakable as was the grief he was obviously trying to hide.

But he wasn't the only one noticing Charlie. Even with his wife on his right and his daughter on his left, Bill couldn't stop glancing down the table at his brother. And when he looked up, he caught his father's eye, and he knew what he would be doing after dinner. He sighed. This one wasn't going to be easy.


	46. Fathers and sons

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

A/N: I hope people aren't getting sick of this story. This is a pretty major turning point. Here's where things will really start to get better. (And it's a longer chapter for a change! Woo! How exciting!)

The family didn't linger at the table anymore. That was probably one of the biggest changes, Arthur realized, as his children quickly rushed through the clean-up, each of them obviously eager to get back to their own rooms. They used to sit around, talking, laughing, teasing, but now? Now, they all wanted to get away from the group that was obviously missing something.

Charlie was the first to go, a fact that surprised no one, but his mother, father and older brother least of all. They were the only ones left in the kitchen by the time everyone else found somewhere else to be. Bill sent Fleur and Victoire home as well, knowing that this wasn't anything they'd need to see. He knew he was trying to protect them, but he also knew he wasn't going to stop doing that anytime soon.

There was silence for a moment as Bill sat in his seat, staring at the table, and Arthur stood by the refrigerator, leaning against the door, watching his wife as she finished guiding the dishes to their appropriate cabinets. When she had finished, he said softly, "Molly, you have to be worried about him, too."

Her back was to them, and she stiffened almost imperceptibly. Arthur crossed the kitchen to her side, and as Bill watched, he put his hand on her shoulder and pulled her to him. For a moment, she remained rigid, unyielding to her husband's gentle touch, but then, without warning, she collapsed again, her shoulders heaving with the tears she couldn't hold back any longer.

"This afternoon," she choked, her words garbled, "he told me. He told me …" But she trailed off, the rest of her words unintelligible. Arthur held her tightly, whispering something Bill couldn't hear. He looked back down at the table, unable to watch any longer. He swallowed hard.

Molly forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. She pulled herself out of Arthur's grasp but held tightly to his hand. Wiping her eyes with her other hand, she turned to Bill.

"It's hard for him," she said quietly. "He never – he never had a chance to say goodbye, and it hurts him. And I know it's asking a lot of you, Bill, because I know you hurt too – but I think you're the only person he'd listen to. I tried to talk to him today. I don't know how much he heard."

He couldn't say no to her. He'd known at dinner that he would be having this conversation, but now there was no turning back. He nodded quickly.

"Sure, Mum. You know I'll go. I'll go up right now."

He didn't wait for her response. He didn't want her to thank him. He just wanted to get this over with. But he couldn't help himself from casting a quick glance at his father as he walked up the stairs. He just hoped he understood.

When he reached the closed door to Charlie's room, he hesitated. There was silence on the other side, and for a moment, he was tempted to just turn on the spot and apparate back to his own home where he could be with Fleur and Victoire and pretend that none of this had ever happened. But then he thought of his mother's face just moments earlier and of Charlie's at dinner, and he knew he had no choice. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer. He should have expected that, he conceded to himself. He waited a moment and then knocked again, knowing that Charlie would only be able to ignore him for so long. He was right. It took a long, drawn out moment before his brother finally growled, "Oh, come in already."

When he entered the room, he marveled at how little it had changed in the years since both he and Charlie had moved out on their own. Their mother never touched their rooms; it wasn't like she was going to do anything else with them, so Charlie's old Gryffindor banner still hung over his bed, and old posters of dragons still papered the walls. Charlie was stretched out on his bed in much the same way he'd been years ago when Bill would come in for late night talks once their parents had gone to bed. But this time, he wasn't smiling. In fact, he was positively glaring at Bill, and Bill sighed.

"Calm down," he muttered, pushing Charlie's legs aside and sitting at the foot of the bed. "I'm not going to stay long. I was just – well, I was worried about you at dinner. Everyone else was ok – even George, really, if you noticed – but you seemed pretty quiet."

Charlie didn't answer for a long time. It was so long that Bill didn't think he ever would. And then…

"It's ridiculous!" he exploded. Bill turned in surprise, but Charlie refused to look at him. He kept his face to the wall as he continued. "I know you heard me and George in the hallway at Hogwarts. And I'm sorry about that. I really am. But he's the one who gets all of the sympathy, and he's the one who gets all of the concern. And I get why. I do. But – well –_I'm_ the one who never got to say goodbye."

He didn't say anymore. He couldn't. He also couldn't understand why he was suddenly unable to keep these thoughts decently to himself as he'd been able to do quite successfully for the past 12 months. First his mother, now Bill – if he weren't careful, he'd be spilling his troubles to McGonagall soon. And now he felt guilty on top of everything else because Bill was the last person he should be telling all of this to. He knew better than anyone how hard of a time his older brother was having coping with all of this and trying to help everyone else as well, and now here he was, making himself just another person to be helped. He swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, still not looking at Bill. "I know it's not just me just like it's not just George. I know you miss Fred too. It's just …" he trailed off. He didn't know what else to say.

Bill, on the other hand, had plenty to say. His voice was calm, which Charlie hadn't expected, and he turned over in surprise to see his older brother glaring at him.

"I believe you when you say you know that," he said flatly. "But I don't think you really do. I think you feel just as bad for yourself as George does for himself, and I think you have _just_ as much of a reason. I can't believe you don't think you have the right to be sad – or even mad. But being mad at Fred isn't going to bring him back, and it won't make missing him going away. If anything… I think it makes you feel worse."

Charlie's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Bill's words struck closer to home than Charlie had thought anyone's could, and he felt his eyes filling. He turned away again and was about to – somehow – ask Bill to leave when he heard a noise that made him stiffen with shock. His door was opening again.

Bill looked up in relief as his father walked into the room, but Charlie didn't move from where he was, carefully keeping his face turned to the wall. He didn't know who it was, but it hardly mattered. He didn't want to see _anyone _right now. He just hoped Bill would take care of it. The last thing he expected to feel was the bed shifting as Bill stood up and someone else sat down.

"Charlie." It was his father's voice, and it held all of the authority and all of the comfort that it had always held for him. But he wouldn't give in. His mother had already gotten to him once today. He couldn't go through it again. He didn't turn over.

Arthur shrugged and turned to Bill. "What have you two been talking about?" he asked, knowing that Charlie would need time to regain whatever composure he had. But Bill didn't cooperate in quite the way his father had expected. He didn't keep the conversation light. He couldn't. This was too important.

"He's angry," Bill said simply, glancing at the back of his brother's head. "He thinks that being mad will make him less sad. And he's mad _and _sad that he never had a chance to say goodbye."

Arthur didn't say anything for a moment. He looked from one son to the other, and then he sighed.

"Charlie," he said softly, knowing full well he would still get no response. "None of us really had a chance to say goodbye. Because we didn't know it _was_ goodbye. Even if you'd been there, you wouldn't have done it any differently than we had."

He was right. Charlie didn't answer. But his unsteady breathing was clearly audible now, and Charlie bit his bottom lip hard, trying to keep it from quivering. He wasn't going to do this again. He. Wasn't. Going. To. Do. This. Again. He'd have a chance if the other two would stop talking. But they didn't.

"Charlie." Now it was Bill, and his voice was pleading. "Charlie, I think you feel like you abandoned us. But you didn't. Even if you'd been there, you couldn't have saved him either. None of us could." His voice broke, and Arthur reached out his hand to him. Bill shook his head and walked over to the window. His back to the room, he could hide his tears, but he couldn't hide his own quivering breath. And it was this all-too familiar sound that finally broke Charlie.

Since he was sitting beside Charlie, Arthur turned to him first, resting a hand lightly on his back, hoping the human contact would help. But it only seemed to make things worse, and Charlie only cried harder. Helplessly, Arthur turned toward the window, to Bill, and was immediately relieved. Bill had somehow stopped crying when he heard Charlie start, and he was now approaching the bed, himself. Wordlessly, Arthur moved down the bed, and Bill sat beside him.

When he felt the bed shift again, Charlie couldn't hide any longer. He turned over to face his father and his brother, his eyes swollen with tears, and he choked, "I want to remember him, and I don't want it to hurt. But I don't remember the last time I saw him. I don't remember what we said to each other. I don't remember – I don't know if he knew I loved him."

Arthur grabbed Charlie's shoulder, sensing that he was going to try to hide again, and he forced his son to look at him.

"You may not remember any of those things," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "but I know one thing for sure. Fred knew you loved him just like you know he loved you. Just like you all know you love each other. You can't question that, Charlie. Your mother and I raised you better."

Charlie looked at his father, and Arthur looked back at him. His eyes were full of pain, but they were also full of love and reassurance, and Charlie nodded slowly. "Ok," he whispered.

Bill looked at him sharply. "Really? You really know that?"

He turned to Bill and nodded again. "Yeah," he said, swallowing hard. "I do."

None of them spoke again. Arthur had said it all.


	47. The picnic

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I actually had real writer's block, but some recent reviews just inspired me to sit down and write again. This isn't the end. Don't worry. It might seem that way, but if you read through carefully, you'll find other foreshadowing. Thanks for the continued encouragement. And if you have a chance, please check out my new one-shot about the Weasleys.

George was feeling better. They all were, Ron realized, as he straightened up around the shop. Now that the memorial had receded to the backs of their minds -- a month would do that – they had resumed the kind of normalcy they had somewhat obtained after all of the funerals had finally stopped a year earlier. But this normalcy – well, it was almost – normal. Ron wasn't so sure what to make of this or even if he liked it very much at all.

The bell over the door rang, and he looked up quickly. They weren't open yet, and he couldn't imagine who would be walking in before they'd flipped the sign. When he saw Katie, though, he smiled and gestured for her to make her way over to where he was now arranging skiving snackboxes.

She grinned at him. "Hullo. Nice morning, isn't it?"

He glanced outside. He hadn't really looked yet, seeing as he'd apparated from Grimmauld Place to the register of the shop, but now he saw that she was right. It was warm and sunny, but it wasn't quite hot yet, and there even looked to be a slight breeze from the way the banner of the shop across the street was fluttering slightly. He nodded.

"It is. Have any good plans for today?"

He didn't miss the slight flush that slid across her face, and she glanced away.

"Not really. Well, George told you about _our_ plans, right?"

Ron shook his head slowly. "No… as a matter of fact he didn't. What plans?"

"We're going for a picnic," George's voice said cheerily as he clattered down the stairs and into the shop. "I forgot to tell you, but don't worry. I've got help for you."

"Help…?" Ron asked, unable to keep the hint of nervousness out of his voice, and George grinned, running his hand through his already messy hair.

"Yeah. But really this time. Percy said he could give you the morning, and Bill said he'd take the afternoon. So don't get all aflutter, little brother. You'll be just fine. And I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned to Katie. "Ready?" he asked, and his crooked grin made her knees weak. She managed a nod, and without another word, George gestured with his wand, and a basket came soaring in from the general direction of the stairway. He grabbed Katie's hand, and before Ron could say so much as goodbye, they were gone, George apparating and taking Katie by side-along.

Ron stared after them, bewildered. George had seemed just as happy as he had every morning for the past two weeks, yes. But… there was something in his eyes today, he thought. Ron shook his head and sighed. Katie might not end up having quite the day she was expecting.

* * *

The couple arrived in a meadow Katie didn't quite recognize, but she didn't question it. She smiled at George as he ceremoniously laid a blanket at their feet and gestured grandly for her to take a seat. Once they were settled side by side, they dug into the basket, and Katie exclaimed over the amount of food George had managed to squeeze inside.

He shook his head modestly. "No, this is Hermione magic right here, tried and true. She told me about it at dinner at my parents' last week. Apparently, this is how the three of them managed to lug everything around all those months when they were out searching for those Horcrux-thingamajigs."

Katie's eyes widened in amazement. "Well, that explains a lot," she commented.

For a while, they ate in silence, enjoying each other's company and the food that Katie was convinced came from Mrs. Weasley's kitchen. George finished first, no surprise given the way he'd been shoveling everything into his mouth, and he stretched out on the blanket, his head on Katie's lap. She shoved the rest of the cookie she'd been eating in her mouth so as not to shower him with crumbs and wiped her fingers on her jeans. Then she started stroking his hair gently. He closed his eyes, trying to enjoy her touch, trying not to think about the nightmare he'd had the night before.

But a look of pain flitted across his face, unbeknownst to him, and Katie saw it. His eyes were still closed, but her forehead crinkled in concern as she wondered if she should say anything. She'd about to decided to let it go, but then she remembered the story George had told her just a few weeks ago about what had happened at Shell Cottage when he'd gone to see Bill, and she knew that the time for letting things go was past. Nothing ever got solved that way.

"Are you all right," she asked softly, her hand still smoothing his hair.

It took a moment for George to open his eyes and look at her and realize that she could tell. He sighed.

"I'm ok," he said carefully. He didn't want to lie, but … this was supposed to be a fun day, a romantic day. He wasn't supposed to ruin it with his problems.

She looked at him skeptically, though. "George." It was all she said. It was enough. He sighed.

"I am ok," he repeated, but then he closed his eyes again and continued. "It's just – well, I had another one of those nightmares last night. That's all."

Her fingers had stilled when he'd said nightmares, but now they started moving again, and her touch was even more gentle than before if that were possible. George was glad his eyes were closed. Her proximity wasn't helping him stay in control, and he desperately needed to. He couldn't let her know about the dream. He couldn't let her know that he'd woken up, drenched in sweat, breathing hard. He couldn't let her know that his pillow had been soaked in tears or that it had taken him hours to fall back asleep. He might scare her away. No. He couldn't let her know.

But as Katie watched George's desperate effort to stay strong, his face twisting, she knew. He didn't need to say it. It was written all over his face. She just didn't know why he was fighting so hard right now. She leaned over, her hair falling across both of them and shielding both of their faces.

"It's got to be hard to have those kinds of dreams," she whispered. "I wish there were something I could do. I wish there were some way for me to really help."

She was about to sit back up when George's arm suddenly reached up and curved around her neck. He pulled her face to his and whispered "Thank you," his voice shaking, and he brought her lips to his. When he let go of her, there were tears on his face, and she wiped them away gently, not saying a word.

That's when George knew … he was going to be ok. He'd never thought that before, and he had a lump in his throat when he realized that he was suddenly admitting that he _could _be ok without Fred. But … he knew it was true. He just hoped that Katie wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. Yes, he could be ok. But he'd need her by his side if he were really to have a fighting chance.


	48. Three months later

**Disclaimer: I never realized before how important disclaimers are, but now, unfortunately, I do. Harry Potter does not belong to me; this story does. To everyone who helped me in reporting the abuse of the "writer" who copied and pasted the first three chapters of this story and tried to pass them off as her own – thank you. I really appreciate it. If anyone else wants to help out (until those stories are taken down), please PM me, and I'll let you know where to look. Thanks again.**

A/N: This is also lighter, obviously, but don't worry. The angst returns soon enough – as in, the next chapter.

Ron couldn't get over how happy she made him, especially during the times when he wasn't sure that he could ever really be happy again. He would watch her read a book or talk to Harry or Ginny, and he would find himself marveling over her smile or the twinkle in her eyes. He was, however, devoutly grateful that no one could read his mind, or he'd surely never hear the end of it. He could hardly believe these thoughts himself. This wasn't him. He didn't moon over girls. But here he was, mooning over Hermione Granger, of all people, and it somehow felt – right.

The memorial was now three months in the past. It had been three months of the Weasleys making a determined effort to – somehow – move on with their lives. It had been three months of George and Katie spending more and more time together and Molly even starting to accept that. But most importantly – for Ron, at least – it had been three months of Hermione showing him that he could smile again and actually mean it.

Harry was once again firmly ensconced at Grimmauld Place, and Ron was officially living there as well. Molly had been sad to see her youngest son move out, but she'd also understood that he needed a change of scenery, and having him and Harry together was the most she could have asked for if they weren't going to be under her roof.

Hermione was still staying with her parents – even in all the time that had passed since she'd brought them home again after the Battle, she still wasn't quite ready to leave them for good. But they were suspiciously relaxed about her staying with Harry and Ron whenever she wanted to, and she was often there in the evenings for dinner, more often than not staying the night as well. Ron wondered if this were a muggle thing – after all, Molly generally had very strict rules for Ginny when she was home on holiday – but he only made the mistake of asking Hermione about it once. She had flushed a brilliant scarlet and mumbled something under her breath about her parents' unspoken expectations of where this relationship would most likely go – and Ron never asked again although his ears matched her face for quite a while after.

But it lingered. In the back of his mind, he knew that her parents were right. This relationship wasn't ever going to end. He couldn't imagine his life without Hermione. She was his happiness, and he knew now that she always had been. And now, more than ever, he also knew he needed her.

This thought had been knocking around in his mind for a few days when he realized he needed to talk about it with someone. He considered George throughout the day, thinking that he might understand given the way he was clearly head over heels for Katie, but memories of his twin brothers' torments stilled his tongue. He'd be better off talking to Bill or even Harry. So when he got home that night, he grabbed his chance before Hermione had a chance to pop over.

The boys were sitting in the living room, and Harry was reading the Daily Prophet. Ron was ostensibly reading _Hogwarts: __A__ History_ (at last, Hermione always exclaimed), but he kept clearing his throat and rustling the pages, hoping that Harry would notice. He really couldn't think of any other way to start this conversation.

Finally, Harry's disgruntled voice came through the paper he still held in front of his face.

"Oh just say it already!" he said, exasperated.

Ron had the decency to look embarrassed, but he took a deep breath and blurted, "You and Ginny… do you ever talk about the future?"

Now, Harry lowered the paper, and he stared at Ron.

"You're – you – no?"

Ron's lips twitched as he suddenly realized that Harry had a lot more to fear than he did. For the first time, he appreciated the fact that Hermione was an only child. He hadn't banked on how scary Harry might find this question as it was coming, unprovoked, from one of his girlfriend's many older brothers. The pallor on his face right now certainly confirmed that. And Ron was glad – only a little bit, of course – that Harry thought Ron might be angry with him if the answer were yes. He paused a moment before finally giving in and allaying his friend's fears.

"It's ok, mate," he said casually, only a hint of menace in his voice, but then his sudden confidence collapsed. He shook his head. "I just – I don't know what to do about Hermione."

Harry relaxed, and the worry in his face was now replaced with sympathy.

"Well, what's to do? Aren't you two happy?" he asked carefully.

Ron nodded glumly. "Yeah," he said, sounding completely depressed. "We're very happy. That's the problem."

Now it was Harry's turn to try not to smile. "_What's_ the problem?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face. Luckily, Ron wasn't looking at him anymore. He was staring at the cover of his book though it was clear that he wasn't seeing it at all.

"Well," Ron said hesitantly, not sure quite how to say it, "it's just … you know how she stays here so much, right?"

Harry nodded, and Ron flushed slightly. "I asked once if her parents cared, and she said – well, she said that they didn't because they expected us to – last."

Now Harry did smile. "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

Ron nodded. "Sure. Sure it is. But … when do she and I make that official? Like… what are we waiting for now? We're done with school. We both have jobs. And yeah, I know we're young, but Mum and Dad were already married at our age, so we're not THAT young, right?"

Harry's mouth had fallen open slightly, and when Ron looked at him, he scowled.

"_What__?'" _he demanded.

Harry deliberately closed his mouth, studied his friend for a minute, and then broke into a smile.

"I think it's great," he said simply. "I think you two have been meant to be since the day she pointed out that smudge on your nose on the Hogwarts express, and I think you shouldn't wait any longer if this is what you want. We all know now that we should live our lives like everyday is the last one, right? So what are you waiting for?"

Now Ron smiled too.

"Thanks," he said.

Neither of them spoke again until Harry said quietly, "So? When?"

This time, when Ron looked at him, Harry could see some of the old terror in his eyes.

"Feel like helping me come up with a plan?"


	49. Six months later

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is. The other issue seems to be resolving itself as I type, but thank you so much to everyone who offered to help. I can't tell you how much I am coming to appreciate this site and the truly supportive writers I've found here.

A/N: Ok, so I held off on angst for a little longer. This chapter was too cute not to write as totally happy. It's a little bit of a cliffhanger but not really, considering we all know what happens, thanks to JKR. I wonder how many people will figure out where they end up, though.

It took him three months. Three months of careful planning, of throwing out the plans and starting again, of losing sleep, of enduring his brothers taking the mickey out of him when he let them in on the secret, of losing his appetite – something NO ONE could believe – until the day finally arrived. It didn't escape his attention that it was the 18-month mark of the Battle, but somehow, that seemed fitting.

Hermione apparated to Grimmauld Place for dinner like she usually did, but when she arrived, she was surprised to find Ron waiting for her and wearing – robes? She looked at him quizzically.

"Did I forget something? Are we going somewhere?" she glanced down at her own jeans and sweatshirt uncertainly, but he shook his head.

"Don't worry. Just – come with me."

He reached out his hand for hers, and once she took his, looking more confused than ever, he side-alonged her, and she looked around, bewildered to find herself in front of Honeydukes.

"Ron, what are we…" she started to ask, but he was already dragging her to the shrieking shack at breakneck speed, not looking at her and certainly not looking like he was going to answer any of her questions. In fact… the more she tried to look at him, the more convinced she was that he was paler than usual and even might have looked slightly ill.

But by the time they reached the shack, she was too out of breath to ask him any questions, and he took advantage of her silence to pull her to the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow.

She managed to find enough air to gasp, "Ronald! What on earth!"

But of course, he continued to move quickly, making further speech completely impossible. They scurried through the tunnel, moving faster than Hermione would have thought possible in such cramped quarters, and when they reached the grounds of Hogwarts, Ron signaled with his wand to depress the button on the knothole, rendering the vicious tree docile.

Once out on the grounds, he began moving quickly again, and it took all of Hermione's considerable efforts to keep up with him. Now she was becoming exasperated, and finally, she stopped. He'd have to notice pretty quickly that his were the only footsteps he was hearing, but it was some time later when he finally glanced back, only to feel as though his stomach had dropped to his knees. A very small Hermione was standing quite still some ways back, watching him. He couldn't see the expression on her face, but he was fairly sure he knew it quite well.

"Oh bloody hell," he muttered, scurrying back to her.

When he reached her, she stared at him. "Glad you decided to look for me finally," she commented, her voice suspiciously calm.

He flushed. "Sorry," he muttered. "But we need to get there as soon as we can, so we need to keep moving."

She continued to stare at him. "Well, Ron, that would be fine … if I had ANY idea where we were going!"

He was starting to look desperate. "Please, 'Mione, just – just trust me for once? It will all make sense soon. I promise."

She sighed. As much as she would have liked to continue arguing – if only because she knew she could win – she could see how much this was worrying him, and she gave in.

"Ok. But we'd better not have that much farther to go."

He didn't answer, just grabbed her hand and continued pulling her up the hill to the castle. When they reached the entrance, he brought her inside quietly and then paused, reaching into the bag she suddenly realized he was carrying. But she was completely bewildered when he pulled out two items – a pair of her robes – and Harry's invisibility cloak?

He tossed her the robes and the cloak. "Here," he mumbled awkwardly. "You need to – you need to change, all right? I'll wait right here."

She looked at him searchingly, but he refused to meet her eyes, and she sighed.

"Okay," she said slowly. With one last glance at the top of Ron's head, she pulled the cloak over her own and proceeded to change as quickly as possible into the robes she'd worn here for six straight years. Once she was finished, she pulled off the cloak.

He stared at her. All of a sudden, she was his best friend again, and they were standing in the entrance to Hogwarts, on their way back from visiting Hagrid or on their way back from a Quidditch match. He stared at her for so long that she was finally forced to say, "Uh, Ron? Didn't you say we had to be somewhere?"

"Oh. Oh yeah," he said, suddenly snapping back to reality. "Come on."

He took her hand again, but this time, it was with all of the awkwardness that defined their time at school, and Hermione found herself smiling. This time, she didn't complain when he dragged her into the castle and off down the corridor.

It was some minutes before he finally stopped, and Hermione looked around slowly. The castle had obviously rebuilt itself in the last 18 months, and it had even made what it must have considered to be relatively minor improvements, but she'd know this hallway anywhere. She looked around, wide eyed.

"Ron," she whispered, her eyes absorbing each brick in the wall, "isn't this where we – where you and I …," but he didn't answer. And when she turned back, he was no longer standing beside her. In fact, she had to look down to find him, and when she did, she felt a chill course down her spine.

He was on one knee. And he was holding a ring.


	50. The Proposal

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. This story is.

A/N: Woo 50th chapter! This is definitely some kind of record for me. I kind of feel like this chapter has everything in it. It's obviously uniquely tailored to these characters, but something in the simplicity of the setup reminds me of my own proposal – which is exactly the way I like it. ) And then, of course, the angst returns. Something for everyone.

For one of the first times in her life, Hermione Granger was at a loss for words. And Ron knew he should take advantage of this rare occurrence and say everything he'd been rehearsing for weeks now, but he had serious doubts about his mouth working properly. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was now or never.

"'Mione," he started, unsurprised by the rasping croak that was now going to have to pass for his voice. She was staring at him, and he wished he could just stare right back and not say another word. But this was the time for words. He started again.

"It's hard to know where to start," he said, "but I figured the right place to do this was where it all actually did … start. When I first met you – well, you know I thought you were a know-it-all. But that was before I knew that you really were because – well – I've never met anyone who reads as much as you do."

Now Hermione remembered to close her mouth, and her lips twitched, but she stayed quiet. She knew enough not to say anything until Ron was done.

He ploughed on, oblivious to her amusement.

"It comes down to this. I love you. I think I've always loved you. I know I was a stupid git, and it took me some time to figure it out, but once I did, it seemed obvious. We're right, Hermione. We're supposed to be together. And I – I hope you agree because I want to spend the rest of forever with you. And I'm willing to stay down here – on this very hard, cold floor – for as long as it takes until you say that you want that too."

He stopped talking and stared at her knees. He couldn't bring himself to look up into her face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this scared.

But then, suddenly, she was crouching down too, and the eyes he'd come to love so much were now looking at him with all of the love and all of the passion he hoped to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life. His breath caught in his throat, and he asked the question with his eyes that he didn't even know he hadn't asked yet.

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice shaky. He stared at her.

"Y- yes? Yes what?"

Hermione looked at him as if he had two heads. "Ronald Weasley," she said sternly, and he suddenly recognized the only voice that could ever scare him into revising for his exams. "Are you or are you not asking me to marry you?"

He blinked, startled. "Um… yes. Of course. Why?"

"Well, were you actually planning on getting on with it?"

"But… you already said yes," he suddenly realized. He beamed and reached for her, but she put out a hand to hold him back.

"Ask. Me." She said, her voice suddenly flat.

For a moment, the two stared at each other, and then, without warning, Hermione was suddenly in his arms, and they were kissing just as breathlessly as they had the other time they'd found themselves here when he'd wisely – and unwittingly – expressed his concern for house elves. When they finally broke apart, he couldn't help but grin.

"So what do you say? Marry me?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "I honestly think that I have no choice," she mused as she surveyed him mock-critically. "I don't think you could make it without me."

He tried to protest, but she threw herself into his arms again, and this time when they broke apart, he held out the ring he was still holding.

"I believe this belongs to you?" he said, and Hermione looked into his eyes as she slid it onto her finger. Neither of them spoke for a moment as they both examined this new, unusual phenomenon. Finally, Ron broke the silence reluctantly.

"If you don't mind…," he started, and she looked up.

"What?" she asked, and he grimaced.

"Well, if we don't go to the Burrow, I don't think we'll ever get to have a wedding because Mum will probably cook us for breakfast. Would you mind if we stopped by there tonight for just a little while?"

Now Hermione laughed. "Ron, they're my family too – of course I don't mind. We can even go right now if you'd like?"

He fidgeted uncomfortably, and now she knew that there was something else on his mind.

"Before – before we go, there's one other place I want to go to here … if that's ok."

She looked at him for a moment and then nodded. Without a word, he took her hand and led her off down the corridor. She didn't need to ask where they were going.

Neither of them spoke when they reached their destination – mere feet away from where they'd just been so happy. Hermione didn't speak, just held Ron's hand tightly. He didn't speak for a little while.

Then … "It looks different now, huh." It wasn't a question, and his voice sounded curiously – casual. Like he was trying very hard to make it sound normal.

"It does," she agreed quietly. She didn't know what else to say.

After another long silence, he sighed. "I just wanted to see how it looked," he mumbled, not looking at her. "But it's – it's just Hogwarts, isn't it. It doesn't look like anything."

Hermione now studied him carefully. It was clear that he hadn't noticed the plaque on the wall, and she hesitated to point it out to him but then realized she had no choice.

"Did you see…" she started, and when he looked at her, she gestured toward the plaque. He stiffened and slowly moved toward it, pulling her along beside him.

They stood before it and Hermione kept her eyes on the floor. She could hear Ron's sniffling, but she didn't look up until he cleared his throat, wiped his eyes hastily and said gruffly, "All right then. To the Burrow?"

Now she risked a glance at him, but he wouldn't turn his head. She sighed.

"Sure," she said quietly. "To the Burrow."


	51. Welcome to the family

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. This story is.

A/N: First of all, I promise that the next chapter will be longer. This one is a little more of a transition, but I think it's a pretty important one nonetheless. I also went back in and edited the small section that seems to be slightly confusing. I hope it's clearer now. This is the gateway to more angst, of course. And Arthur's reaction (which you will soon see) comes directly from my own experience with my own father-in-law. I'm very lucky.

"Well, do we have any idea _when_ they're going to get here?" Molly demanded. She was rushing around the kitchen at top speed, and her children were staying well out of her way. If they had learned one thing in their lives at the Burrow, it was not to mess with Molly Weasley when she had a pot in one hand and a pan in the other.

Bill and Charlie grinned at each other. "Relax, Mum. They'll be here soon, I'm sure."

Molly didn't answer. She was too busy with the cake she was making and the tea she was brewing. Her children resumed their conversation on the other side of the room as they anxiously awaited their brother's appearance.

The cake was ready; the teapot was whistling, and Molly was about to burst into flames herself when Ron and Hermione finally popped into the garden of the Burrow. As one, all of the Weasleys rushed to the window to try to get a look at Ron's face.

Ron and Hermione stood facing one another in the garden. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then Hermione reached out to hug him. He responded somewhat stiffly, and she pursed her lips tightly. They were going to have to talk about this, but now was obviously not the time.

They let go of each other, and Ron mumbled, "I don't think I look as … happy … as they'll expect me to."

He looked at Hermione, and she looked back at him and understood exactly what he was talking about. His eyes were still tinged with red, and so was his long nose. Silently, Hermione pulled out her wand, shook it in his general direction, and mumbled something under her breath. Immediately, Ron felt his face cooling off and the red draining away. He stared at her for a moment before nodding abruptly, plastering a smile on his face, and turning to walk into the house.

He had barely gotten through the door, though, when Ginny attacked him.

Throwing her arms around him, she blurted over his shoulder, "Well, Hermione? Did he do it right?"

Hermione forced herself to smile as she held up her left hand. "What do you think?"

And then… before she realized what was happening … she was suddenly in the middle of a very large, very loud group hug, and the person who was hugging her hardest was, unsurprisingly, Molly Weasley. When Hermione finally gasped, "I … need… air," the rest of the family slowly let go, but Molly kept a firm arm around her future daughter-in-law's shoulders.

"Mum," Ron started, trying to pry her away, but she wouldn't let go.

"No," she said, fixing Hermione with a smile unlike any she had ever seen before. "I finally get her officially as a daughter. I'm not letting go of this one any time soon."

But then she turned her gaze on Ron, and after a moment of hesitation in which she realized that he was not as happy as he should be, she said, "you did well. We're proud of you."

He stared at her, and he knew she could see the misery he couldn't even understand. Refusing to dwell on this, he turned to Arthur who was standing beside Bill and Fleur.

"Dad, you haven't said anything," Ron pointed out. "What do you think?"

Arthur looked from Hermione to Ron, and a gentle smile spread across his face. "I get a third daughter out of this deal. What do you think I think?" He turned back to Hermione. "The writing's been on the wall for years, Hermione, but I think we can officially say it now. Welcome to the family."

Ron knew he wasn't imagining the tears shimmering in his fiancée's eyes, and he watched as _she_ somehow detached herself from his mother's grip and crossed the room to hug his father. There was silence for a moment until Molly cleared her throat and said, her voice full of emotion, "Well. I think it's time to eat. Let's go outside."

As they made their way to the tables on the grass, Ron couldn't help but remember the celebration they'd once had here for Harry's birthday – a very different type of celebration indeed. And he wasn't the only one remembering. He was about to walk outside when he felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. He turned and was surprised to see Harry with a smile on his face but a serious look in his eyes.

"Congratulations," he said, and Ron knew that he knew. He didn't know how, and he didn't know why, but he knew that Harry could tell from looking at him just what had gone on at Hogwarts. He had to look away.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Come on. Let's go eat."

Harry looked at him questioningly but didn't pursue it, much to Ron's relief.

The cake was beautiful. Molly had outdone herself once again, and they all gasped when the huge lion of Gryffindor came floating towards the table. She couldn't help but beam at the looks on their faces.

"It's another all-Gryffindor Weasley wedding," she said simply. "The first one since mine and your father's. I think it deserves to be mentioned."

No one argued, but everyone glanced quickly at Harry and Ginny and just as quickly looked away. There was an awkward silence for a moment until George decided to rescue his little sister from any uncomfortable questions about _her _future and said loudly, "So do you have any idea when this is going to be?"

Ginny and Harry both looked at him gratefully as everyone's attention turned back to the newly-engaged couple. And for the next few hours, the table buzzed with wedding talk. Even Ron managed to relax. And Hermione fooled herself into thinking the worst was over.


	52. Conversations with Fred II

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is. (Sensing a new trend here?)

A/N: Angst is back... but in a more hopeful kind of way... I hope?

Molly insisted on everyone spending the night at the Burrow. Hermione looked at her carefully when she made this declaration, and she wondered about the reason. She couldn't tell if it were because she wanted to continue the celebration in the morning or if she wanted to keep an eye on Ron. Once the excitement died down and everyone moved into the house to go to bed, no one could have failed to notice that Ron had deflated and gone to his bedroom as quickly as possible.

Ginny yawned as she closed the door behind her, but her eyes were very alert as she turned to her future sister-in-law. Hermione looked back at her steadily, and as they both settled into their beds, Ginny said quietly, "So what happened? Aren't you two supposed to be happier than either of you obviously are?"

Hermione held her gaze for a long moment before finally dropping her eyes to the comforter.

"It's just… well, he asked, and we were happy and about to come back here when he decided he wanted to…"

She trailed off, but Ginny looked confused.

"He wanted to what, Hermione?"

Now Hermione looked at her, and the pain in her eyes answered Ginny's question more quickly than any words would have done.

"You went to the hallway," Ginny mumbled, and Hermione looked back down, nodding. Neither of them spoke for a moment and then Ginny said, her voice hoarse, "Fred – Fred would have been really happy about this Hermione. You know he thought of you as another sister, I'm sure."

Hermione felt her throat constrict. She nodded. She couldn't say another word. Neither could Ginny. But what she did do was sit beside her new sister on her cot and put an arm about her. Words weren't necessary.

A few rooms and a few stairs away, Ron was in his own bed, staring determinedly at the wall and waiting for Harry to fall asleep. It was weird being back in his bed at the Burrow, and he didn't like it. And he didn't know why. He kept trying to swallow the lump in his throat, but it wouldn't go away. He didn't know what was wrong with him, and he was so frustrated that he wanted to scream.

He'd done it. He'd asked Hermione to marry him, and she'd said yes. He should be turning cartwheels now or, at the very least, setting off firecrackers, but he couldn't even smile. He wouldn't turn over either. He knew Harry was worried about why he wasn't as happy as he should be, but Harry wasn't the person he wanted to talk to. So he waited until he heard his friend's breathing turn from worried to measured, and then he slipped out of bed.

Wrapping himself in his old flannel robe, he made his way out of his bedroom silently, holding his breath as he passed his parents' bedroom. He didn't want to talk to them either.

No one was in the kitchen or the living room when he got to the bottom of the stairs, and he paused for a moment by the back door. He wasn't sure why he was stuffing his feet into his boots or throwing his winter jacket over his robe or checking for his wand, but he opened the door anyway and walked into the cold night air.

He walked along, his boots crunching the thin sheet of ice that covered the grass, and he tried not to think about where he was going or why the only brother he wanted to talk to was the one who wasn't comfortably in bed right now.

He was wrong. There was another brother who wasn't comfortably in bed. When he reached the graveyard, he saw that the telltale hint of red hair and the face that looked so like the one he wished he could see, and suddenly, he couldn't see very much at all. As he edged closer to the grave, he heard his brother's voice.

"Well, Fred, it looks like our ickle Ronniekins is growing up. He's finally gotten up the guts to actually ask Hermione to marry him, and would you believe she actually said yes? Well, yeah, of course you would. We all do. It's – it's good. It's just hard not to have you here to help me take the mickey out of him. We'd have such a good time with this; you know we would. I don't know how I'm going to do this all by myself…"

George trailed off as his voice tightened. He looked down at the ground and then up sharply as he heard footsteps stumbling toward him. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find Ron standing stiffly beside him.

There was silence in the graveyard for a long time until Ron's voice broke the stillness. But he wasn't talking to George.

He stared at the headstone that he normally avoided at all costs and said, "So I asked her. And for some reason, you were the only person I wanted to tell. I know you'd be the one to laugh the most at the way I didn't actually ask; I know you'd also be the one to laugh at how she made me do it. And right now… that laughter wouldn't sound so bad. I just – I wish you were here for this. It's a great thing. I know it is. But it isn't …"

It isn't. It isn't great; it isn't fun; it isn't fair; it isn't the way it's supposed to be. These were the thoughts that ran through his head as the tears ran down his cheeks. He turned his face away from George, not wanting him to see. But he couldn't prevent him from hearing, and George knew he couldn't turn away from Ron, as much as it might be easier than doing what he knew he had to.

Ron was still standing with his back to the grave when George's arm went around his shoulders. Without knowing how or even why he was allowing this, he turned into the hug he thought he'd want to avoid, and he buried his face in George's shoulder.

"It's – it's too hard sometimes, isn't it?" he whispered. And as George tightened his grip, he felt his own eyes start to sting.

"It is," he whispered. "But – I don't think that's going to change. I think that maybe – if we're lucky – it's something we'll get used to. But Ron … you have Hermione now to help you get used to it. You needed to come tell Fred. I get that. I obviously needed to do that too." Here he had to stop because his voice had broken when he'd said his twin's name, and he needed some time to master it. After a few deep breaths, he said, "But Hermione will understand this more than you think. I think – I think you just need to let her."

Ron let out a shuddering sigh. "I know," he said in a low voice. "I know I do. I just… I don't know. I didn't want her to think I wasn't happy about this. Because I am. I love her, George. I know I sound stupid, but I do. I just – I miss him."

He looked at George, and George looked at him, and both of their eyes were full.

"I know," George whispered, and this time he pulled Ron back into the hug for his own sake as much as his younger brother's. There would be time for Katie and Hermione to help. Right now, they needed each other.


	53. Older brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I do own this story.

A/N: A transition of sorts … but a necessary one. And I'm sure you can all see where this is going. Thanks for the reviews. I can't believe there are so many, and I don't feel like an end is coming any too soon either. (Oh, and I went back and changed the title of the last chapter to something slightly more… fitting.)

George and Ron made their way back to the house and silently went to their own bedrooms, taking care to walk as quietly as possibly. They didn't look at one another or speak again, and once George closed the door behind him, he leaned against it and let out an explosive breath.

He hadn't expected Ron to show up. He couldn't blame him, obviously, but he hadn't been prepared for any sort of emotional scene. Shaking his head, he made his way over to his bed, his reflection in the mirror catching his eye. He stopped and stared for a moment at the face he used to always find by his side and now only found in his own reflection. His eyes burned, and his reflection blurred.

"It'd be easier if I could just hear your voice once more, you know," he whispered to the blurred figure in the mirror. He swiped furiously at his eyes, so he could see more clearly, but once he did, it hurt more. This wasn't Fred, this person he was staring at. It was his own miserable self, looking like Fred never had with one ear, red eyes and an expression of utter despair.

Slowly, he forced himself to turn away and go to bed. Shoving his face into his pillow, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. The pillow absorbed the silent tears as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Morning came much more quickly than he could ever remember it doing before, and he forced a smile onto his face as he descended the stairs to find his family at the breakfast table. Ron was sitting beside Hermione, and he looked up when George came down the stairs but quickly looked back down, and George could see the tips of his ears turning red.

Choosing to make everyone's life easier and leave Ron alone, he turned his attention to his parents.

"So what's on your schedule for today," he asked his mother, and she looked at him with a surprised smile. He noticed with a pang how different this look was from the suspicious one he and Fred used to get whenever they so much as sneezed.

She looked down the table at Ron and Hermione and smiled. "Well, now that we have a wedding to plan, I want to sit down and start figuring out how we're going to do this. It might be a bit more complicated than Bill and Fleur's was because Hermione's parents aren't…" Here she trailed off, her face turning pink, but Hermione smiled.

"It's ok, Mrs. Weasley. They're muggles. They know that. It's not an insult. And I'm sure they'll want to meet with you and Mr. Weasley whenever you want to see them so we can plan everything together. I should go see them now, though. I only had the time to send them a quick message last night before we came here, and I think my mother is probably desperate to see me by now."

Molly's eyes widened. "Well, of course you should go there straight away! And Ron should go with you, of course. If you two want to come back here for dinner tonight, Hermione, and invite your parents as well, that would be wonderful. Do you want to do that?"

"Sure," Hermione said with a grin before turning to Ron, a questioning look in her eyes. "Is that ok with you?"

Ron felt curiously numb as the plans swirled around him, and he nodded dazedly.

"Sure, that's fine. Whatever you want."

Hermione beamed at him. "Great. Let me just go get my things, and then we can be off." And she rushed back up the stairs.

The conversation became general again, and under the cover of the noise his family was making, Bill leaned over and whispered to Ron, "If you just memorize that phrase that you just said to Hermione, you'll be set for life, you know."

Ron turned to look at him, still bemused. "What was that?"

Bill tried not to laugh as he whispered back, mimicking Ron, "'Sure, that's fine. Whatever you want.'"

Normally, Ron would have scowled, but now he just nodded, and Bill couldn't help but snort. His brother was really in for it now.

George, meanwhile, relaxed into the hubbub, hoping that his part in the conversation was finished. He thought he might even make it out of breakfast and back to his flat relatively peacefully when his mother turned to him and said, "You'll come back tonight, won't you? And you can bring Katie too, if you'd like?"

He couldn't miss the hope in her voice, and he inwardly winced. This was just what he needed now, for his marriage-minded mother to have her matchmaking senses even more finely tuned.

"I might," he said shortly and then stood up from the table. "I'll owl you later if something else comes up," he said and bounded back up the stairs without another word to anyone. Molly turned her attention back to the rest of her children, but Arthur couldn't miss the glance that passed between Bill and Charlie. He waited until he'd made eye contact with both of them and then said loudly, "I think I'm going to go to the shed. If you need anything, dear, you'll let me know?"

Molly nodded. "Yes, of course. Go on. But don't let the neighbors hear you tinkering with that new taster thing you have in there."

"Toaster, Molly, toaster. Don't worry. No one will hear a thing. They're really quite small, and …"

He trailed off when he realized she was no longer listening, got to his feet and left the house. It took only a few minutes for both Bill and Charlie to join him in the shed.

"Listen," he said quietly, cutting straight to the point. "You two probably already noticed this, but I think George is having a hard time with the engagement, and – well, I might be off on this one, but I think even Ron might not be as happy as he really ought to be. You _will_ keep an eye on them, right?"

Bill and Charlie looked at each other and rolled their eyes, and their father was forcefully reminded of what they'd been like as teenagers.

"Of course we will, Dad," Bill said slowly, as if explaining something that should be self-explanatory by now.

"We always have," Charlie added.

Arthur nodded. "I know you have," he said simply. "You're good brothers. I just think they might need you now more than anyone else. Ron might talk to Hermione, and George might talk to Katie. I hope they do. But even if they do… I don't think they really listen to anyone else as much as they listen to you."

This time, neither Bill nor Charlie rolled his eyes. They merely looked at their father and nodded. They knew he was right.


	54. He left

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine; this story is.

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Talk about major writer's block for a change. I know this is short, but at least it's something. Hopefully it'll jump start the creative juices again. Oh, and the angst is back here in full force.

The shop was bustling that day, and it wasn't until mid-afternoon that Katie showed up. It only took her a quick look at George to see that something was bothering him, but she knew better than to ask him about it at that moment. Nothing made George shut down more effectively than being asked about his feelings in a crowd, and Katie now knew this better than anyone. It was closing time when they finally had the chance to talk.

As he shut the door behind the last customer, George let out a sigh of relief and turned to Katie with an expectant smile. It was weaker than it normally was, but she smiled back and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him deeply.

When they broke apart at last, the smile on George's face was a lot more genuine, and Katie giggled.

"What," he asked her innocently as he began to move around the store, straightening up the shelves and whisking random streamers out of sight.

"Oh, nothing," she said, watching him tucking a box of extendable ears back into its stack. "You just seemed kind of out of it when I came in; that's all."

He went quiet, and Katie winced. So she hadn't been imagining it. It was a while before he said anything, and when he did, he muttered, "Yeah, so Ron and Hermione got engaged last night."

Katie's face lit up, and she clapped her hands together in delight. "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.

George nodded, but he didn't say anything more, and he avoided Katie's inquisitive eyes as he moved down the shelves, making every effort not to think about Ron or their conversation from the night before. He knew Katie could read him better than most anyone else these days, and he knew that if he allowed himself to think about it, she'd get it out of him somehow.

He didn't know why he bothered. He had his back to her and was running his fingers along the boxes, pretending to count, when she was suddenly behind him. She rested her hand lightly on his back, and he suddenly found himself blinking hard, trying to clear his vision.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and George struggled unsuccessfully to control his breathing. Katie left her hand on his shoulder but didn't speak. She knew he would need to talk first.

Finally, he let out a deep breath and turned slightly. He still wouldn't meet her eyes, but she could see the slight tinge of red around his, and she swallowed hard.

"It's just… it's hard to do this by myself," he said, his voice hoarse. He stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to Katie's presence.

"But… you aren't," she said softly. "You have Bill and Charlie and Percy and Ginny…"

She trailed off as he turned to look at her at last. His eyes were pained, and she could see what he was thinking, that she didn't understand. And she realized something. She didn't.

"It's like… it's not real if Fred doesn't know about it," he mumbled as he looked away again, and she felt a pit lodge itself in her stomach. But she listened, and he continued to talk – and continued not to look at her.

"I don't know how to be happy about things if he doesn't know that they're happening," he whispered. He felt like he'd never swallow again, and he was about to completely turn his back on Katie when her grip on his shoulder tightened. It surprised him enough that he looked at her instead.

"Do you really think he doesn't know?" she asked softly, pouring all of the love and compassion she felt into the question. He stared at her, and she added, "if anyone were ever going to watch over anyone else, George… I'm sure Fred would do his level best to make sure to do it for you."

A tear slipped down George's cheek, and he wiped it away quickly. He shook his head.

"No."

Katie stared at him, and he finally looked her directly in the eye. "If he wanted to watch over me," he choked, his voice suddenly strained, "he would still be here. He could be a ghost. Like Nearly Headless Nick. But he isn't. He didn't stay. And now he'll never know about anything that happens here ever again."

His shoulders started to shake, and he covered his eyes with his hand. She slowly moved closer until she could wrap her arm around his waist, and they stood together, his hand over his face, her arms around him, until he calmed down.

After a few moments of silence, Katie said softly, "I guess I do understand now. But… I think you need to talk about this with someone else too. I … I don't know how to help make this better. If you can't be happy about Ron and Hermione, then I don't know what _will_ make you happy."

George didn't answer. He knew she was probably right, but he wasn't ready to admit that yet. After a silence that convinced Katie that this conversation was effectively over, she decided to change the subject herself.

"So what are we doing tonight?" she asked, and now George sighed.

"Mum is making another celebratory dinner for the happy couple. Hermione's parents might even come. She told me I should bring you… if you want to come," he added hastily.

Katie looked at him questioningly. "Well, of course I'll come… if you want me to?"

He nodded quickly. "Yeah," he said, brushing his hand quickly across his eyes and breaking gently out of her embrace. His back to her, he mumbled, "Thanks."

Katie didn't answer. She simply watched him as he tried to busy himself, and she suppressed a sigh. She understood his sadness. She did. But she knew she didn't really understand why this was suddenly so hard. She wished she knew who would.


	55. Ron and Ginny

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: This is a longer one, and the next one is obvious, I guess, but I had to end this where I did. It does include another flashback. Also... the chapter titles are somehow now appropriately mirroring older ones.

As Ron and Hermione walked out into the Grangers' backyard, Hermione called over her shoulder, "We'll come back in a few hours. See you soon!"

The sounds of her parents agreeing floated after them, and Hermione grinned at Ron. "It's going to be fun tonight, isn't it?"

He tried to smile and nod. "Yeah, it will," he said with forced cheer. Before she could say another word, he turned away. "Ready?" he muttered, and without waiting for an answer, he popped out of her parents' yard.

Hermione stared at the empty place where her fiancé had just been standing, and she gritted her teeth. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on getting to the Burrow. It was time to talk to Ron whether he wanted to or not.

He wasn't in the garden when she got back, though, and she wandered into the house. Ginny was sitting with her mother at the table and was obviously trying to be enthusiastic, but the look of relief that crossed her face when Hermione walked in was undeniable.

Molly's face lit up. "Come join us, dear! We're planning what to make for tonight," she exclaimed. Hermione obediently complied, but when Ginny looked at her more closely, she couldn't miss the confusion in her friend's eyes.

"What is it?" she asked, turning away from her mother and focusing on Hermione.

Hermione stared down at the table. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just … well, Ron didn't really wait for me to come back here, and I just – I kind of wanted to talk to him about what's going on."

Neither Ginny nor Molly spoke for a few minutes, and then Ginny said softly, "Did you hear them last night when they came back into the house?"

Hermione lifted her head now, but Ginny wasn't looking at her. She was staring at the table, and both her friend and her mother waited for her to continue. After a long pause, she did.

"I … I went to Ron's room after I heard them. I talked to him…"

She trailed off again. When she finally looked up, she saw that Hermione no longer looked confused but was focusing solely on her. Her mother was watching her in much the same way. She sighed. There was no way out of this now, but maybe she needed to relive it in order to be able to get past it.

* * *

Hermione's even breathing filled the room as Ginny shifted restlessly in her bed. She couldn't understand how Hermione could just fall asleep after a conversation like the one they just had, but she'd always been able to do that. It was something Ginny envied, and it only aggravated her into more wakefulness. She'd almost decided to get out of bed and go to the kitchen for a snack when she heard footsteps outside of her bedroom door. 

Moving as carefully and quickly as she possibly could, she opened the door a crack in time to see George and Ron staring at each other before silently going to their own bedrooms. Her heart sank when she caught a glimpse of George's face, but then Ron turned in her direction, and she almost gasped. Of course she'd seen him sad. But she never got used to it.

She hesitated for the time it took him to get back to his room before she finally decided that she should go after him. Closing the door behind her slowly so that it wouldn't wake Hermione, she padded up the few stairs to Ron's door. She stared at it for a moment, not knowing whether or not to knock, not knowing whether or not Ron would even _want _to see her, when she finally realized that there was no choice. _She_ wanted to see _him_.

She tapped lightly on the door but was unsurprised when she received no response. She hadn't expected to. She opened the door slowly and started when she glanced down to see Harry lying on his cot, looking at her steadily. She blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected him to be awake. Neither of them spoke, and her eyes flickered to Ron's bed. He was facing the wall, his back to them, but they couldn't miss his shaking shoulders or the soft sounds of sniffling.

For a long moment, Ginny stood there, unsure of what she should do. Harry made it easy. Without a word, he slipped out of bed and dropped a kiss on the top of her head as he squeezed past her and out the door, closing it behind him. For a moment, Ginny marveled at his understanding and at how much he obviously loved her brother. Then she took a deep breath and crossed the room to his bed. Slowly, she eased herself down until she was sitting beside him. He froze.

"What," he rasped. He didn't turn over. He didn't care who it was.

Ginny didn't answer. She just rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

Ron screwed his eyes tightly shut. He knew from her scent that it was his little sister, and while he was grateful that she cared, he couldn't turn over. She couldn't – could NOT – see him this broken. Not when he felt so stupid about it.

"Don't," Ginny said in a low voice, and he shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't _what_?" he mumbled. He still didn't turn over.

"Don't feel stupid about this. It doesn't mean you don't love Hermione. It just means that you miss Fred. We – we all do."

Ron opened his eyes. She did understand. But she didn't say anymore, and he knew he had to do the last thing he wanted to. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sit up and look at her. She was staring at him, and he reached over and took her hand.

"Thanks," he whispered. And without even thinking about it, he pulled her over to him and wrapped his arms around her tightly as his tears started to fall again. He couldn't have been more grateful that she merely held onto him tightly until he calmed down and never said another word.

* * *

Both Hermione and Molly's eyes were full when Ginny stopped talking, but they smiled at her. 

"You did a good thing," Molly whispered, and Hermione nodded.

"You did," she echoed.

Ginny looked at both of them, and she bit her lip to stop it from trembling.

"It _is_ hard," she whispered, and now she looked only at her mother, who nodded and opened her arms tentatively, not knowing how her toughest child would respond. As much as Charlie was hardest of her sons to reach, Ginny was the hardest of all of them.

But some things were too hard for Ginny. She let her mother enfold her in her arms, and Molly's shoulder caught the tears she always tried to hide.

Hermione knew what she had to do. With one last look at two people who had so much to be happy about and yet couldn't bring themselves to smile, she walked out of the room. Ginny and Molly needed each other right now. She needed Ron.


	56. Hermione and Ron

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. This story is.

A/N: NOW we're back to longer chapters. (I'm big on flashbacks these days, I guess.) I stayed up late to put this up, and it made me sad to write, but I think it resolves a lot of the issues that were floating around in the last few chapters. Oh, and Katy… it's your turn for another update if I could stay up late to do this. (I promise you more Bill soon if you do…)

Hermione wandered around for an hour. She checked Ron's bedroom, the garden, the graveyard, even, but had no luck. She was about to just go back to her parents and tell them that dinner was off when she realized that there was one very obvious place she hadn't checked. She dragged her feet as she felt herself drawn to a room she wished she could avoid.

She stopped outside the door and couldn't bring herself to knock. She was suddenly struck by the force of a memory she'd managed to repress until just now.

* * *

_Hermione found them in __the Gryffindor common room.__No one else was there, and she quickly saw why that was so important right now.__ They didn't look anything like the __Weasleys__ everyone always expected them to be._

_Ginny was white and shaking, and she sat between the twins. George had his arm around her, but Fred was hunched over, his face in his hands. Silently, Hermione turned to Ron and __with one __look,__ she __asked him __everything she needed to know._

_"Harry saw… he saw the snake attacking __our Dad__," Ron mumbled, and Hermione __gasped. __She glanced at Fred again and felt as though she might throw up. This wasn't how Fred behaved, and it had to mean things were bad._

_"We're going back to __Grimmauld__ Place now," Ron __continued__. "We went to St. __Mungo's__, but they're still working at stopping the bleeding, so they sent us back here to get our things. Mum… Mum needs us now."_

_His voice was shaking and he __pursed his lips together tightly to keep them from trembling.__ Hermione reached over and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. He looked at her with a lopsided smile and said, "Would you stay here and make sure no one else hangs around? We need to meet back here, and we're not supposed to tell anyone where we're going."_

_Hermione nodded quickly but then glanced around again. "Where's Harry?" she asked, suddenly realizing that he was conspicuously absent._

_Ron glanced at his brothers and sister and then said quickly, "Dumbledore… Dumbledore wanted to talk to him."_

_There was more that he wasn't saying, but this wasn't the time to ask. As the four redheads got to their feet, Hermione tried to smile at them._

_"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make sure no one else comes down here. Go on."_

_Without a word, they made their way up __their separate stairways, and Hermione settled herself on the couch before the fire. It was a few minutes before she heard__ footsteps again, and she turned, surprised to see Fred __floating__ his trunk __behind him__… __and he was __alone_

_He slumped down on the couch and put his face back into his hands, __seemingly oblivious to Hermione's presence. She sat very still, completely unsure of what to do.__ After a moment, she heard __a__ sound that made her stomach clench. __It was sniffling, and while it was the last sound she __ever __thought__ she'd hear from Ron__, she knew she'd have had an easier time knowing what to do in _that_ situation. In this one – she was frozen. _

_She was in much the same state when George came down __moments later __with his own trunk. He stopped short when he caught sight of them, and his face was stricken. Hermione's eyes locked with his, and he saw how torn she was. He shook his head slightly at her to show her that she shouldn't leave, that it would only make things worse, and he joined the two of them on the couch._

_He rested his hand on his brother's shoulder and muttered, "Mate, he's going to be ok. He has to be."__ He studiously did not look at Hermione. He could hear the strain in his own voice, and that meant that she could hear it too. But it had the desired effect. Slowly, Fred raised his head and turned to look at his brother. Hermione looked away and pretended she couldn't hear Fred's choked voice, saying, "But what if he isn't?"_

_She __sat there, __trying not to hear the twins, trying to control her __shivering__ when she heard more footsteps and then Ron's shaking voice, saying "Once … once Ginny gets down here, we'll go?"_

_No one answered, and Hermione kept staring at her lap. And then Ginny reappeared. __Hermione finally looked up when she heard her calm voice saying, "Ok, guys.__ Pull it together. Mum needs us now, and she needs us to be there for her. Are we ready?"_

_Her words were more magical than any spell she could have performed. Suddenly, her brothers were on their feet, eyes red and watery but with determination in their eyes.__ Ginny stepped forward first and hugged Hermione hard._

_"We'll let you know when to come," she whispered, and Hermione nodded. They released each other, and then Ron stepped forward. After an awkward moment, he grabbed her in a crushing hug._

_"You'll come soon, right?" he asked, his voice still hoarse. She merely squeezed him harder, and when he let go, his gratefulness was in his eyes._

_George and Fred were looking at her, and she turned to look at them, __unsure of what she should say. S__he didn't have to wonder for long. _

_"Thanks," George mumbled, and she nodded. Fred looked at her and nodded as well. He didn't say a word, and she knew it was because he couldn't. __The complete understanding that passed between them __was enough.__ And when she did arrive at __Grimmauld__ Place days later after Arthur was out of the woods, Fred was the first to greet her with a bear hug and a smile that spoke volumes._

* * *

She stared at the door to the twins' room and shook her head, trying to get Fred's grinning face out of her mind. That wasn't making this any easier. She squared her shoulders and put her hand to doorknob. There was no use in knocking. George wasn't home, and there was no way Ron would answer the door. 

She was right. He wouldn't have answered. Because when she opened the door, she was assaulted by the sight of her fiancé face down on his brother's bed, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. She made her way over to George's bed and sat down slowly, watching Ron. She didn't know how to start. She didn't have to.

"It still doesn't smell like him." Ron's voice was coming from the sheets, and Hermione knew that it wasn't only because of his face being buried in the covers that his voice was so muffled. She shifted uncomfortably. She wished she still thought he had the emotional range of a teaspoon. As annoying as that had been… it had also been easier.

"No?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

Ron didn't answer for a while. But then he turned over so his back was to the room.

"George said it stopped smelling like him pretty much right away. I don't know. I didn't want to believe him. I want…" he trailed off, and Hermione had to resist the urge to get up and go to him. She knew he needed to talk, and she knew that going over there was a surefire way of stopping the conversation. She waited.

"I just…" his voice was hoarse. After a moment, he turned back over and looked straight at her. "I love you so much, Hermione. And I am so happy that we will spend the rest of our lives together. But Fred … Fred will never have this. _I_ was … I was never supposed to have this before he did. It's … it's out of order."

Hermione nodded. Her eyes were burning with tears she didn't want to shed.

"I know it is," she whispered. "I miss him too, Ron. It's not fair. But… but don't you think he'd be happy for us? I think he would."

Ron nodded, turning his face slightly so he could inconspicuously wipe his eyes on the sheet.

"I know," he mumbled. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his face etched with pain. "We're supposed to be happy. I _am _happy. I'd just be happier if…"

He couldn't say another word, and she couldn't wait another minute. She crossed the room in two steps and bent down to wrap her arms around him. As his arms tightened around her, she whispered, "I know. We all would be."


	57. A celebration?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: I know this update has taken longer than usual, but it took me a while to figure out where it was going. It makes sense now, though. I hope you all think so too. Review, if you please. This really IS a long one.

By the time Hermione went to get her parents to bring them back to the Burrow (by auto, of course), Molly was in a cooking frenzy. She'd marshaled her children to clean every corner of the house, and as much as they griped and grumbled, they were all glad of the distraction. It didn't take long for any of them to figure out that none of them were as happy as they should be – and that, for some reason, went double for Ron.

As Charlie gestured with his wand and sent the dust bunnies scurrying for the garden, he glanced at Ron's pale face, and he felt a sharp pang. This was his youngest brother. He'd always somehow felt more protective of him than of Ginny, and he felt that old responsibility returning to him now. For some reason, he'd always felt that Ginny could take care of herself. Ron, on the other hand – well, as much as he always liked to pretend that he was so very strong, it was clear to all of his older brothers that he was probably the most sensitive of them all. And the more he tried to hide that, the clearer it became.

There was no time to talk, though, and they were in the midst of setting up the outdoor festivities when Charlie suddenly found himself by Ron's side for the first time in hours. He knew he'd need to take this opportunity, and he forced himself to smile.

"So are you excited for this?" he asked quietly as they helped each other maneuver the chairs into place.

Ron looked up in surprise. This was the first time all afternoon that anyone had tried to engage him in a conversation, and he'd been trying not to let himself think about why this might be so. One glimpse into Charlie's eyes, however, made the reason for this conversation clear. Charlie was worried. As much as he tried to hide it, Ron could see it, and he felt himself deflate inwardly even as he forced a smile onto his face for what felt like the 300th time that day.

"Yeah, I'm excited," he said, but even he could hear the sadness under his words, and he knew that Charlie could hear it too. Studiously avoiding his gaze, he said, "Come on. We've got to get this set up before Mum bakes _us_ into her newest cake."

Charlie complied, but he watched Ron carefully for the next hour. And Ron, who couldn't completely shake the cloud that had settled over him, relaxed slightly for the first time in two days. He loved Hermione, and he knew she would always be his person, the one he'd turn to first, but there was just something about the over protectiveness of his older brothers. As much as he'd never admit it… they made him feel secure.

* * *

When the Grangers arrived at the Burrow, Molly, Arthur and their children were in the living room, waiting with nervous smiles. The moment they walked in the door, it was clear to everyone that the Grangers were just as nervous. But Molly could contain herself for no longer than a moment before she was hugging and kissing both of them and then ushering Mrs. Granger into the kitchen, Hermione and Ginny hot on their heels. Hermione cast a smile over her shoulder at Ron and was relieved when he smiled back even as he kept a close eye on his father. Arthur was talking animatedly with Mr. Granger, and Ron had been put on strict instructions by his mother to make sure that his father, under no circumstances, took Mr. Granger out to the shed.

It went off much better than either Ron or Hermione could have imagined. Carol Granger found herself loving her daughter's future mother-in-law more than she could have ever thought possible, given that she would soon have to share her daughter with this woman who also – well, who was a witch. Carol had accepted Hermione's magical abilities years ago, but this woman was her own age and had ALWAYS known that she could do magic. Carol couldn't imagine it.

Molly, for her part, reveled in showing her world to this muggle woman who was surprisingly more similar to herself than she could have imagined.

"But we're both mothers," she conceded, even as she flicked her wand over her shoulder and turned off the heat under the stew.

Carol nodded and smiled fondly at both of their daughters. "We are," she said, "and honestly – can anyone understand a mother's worries better than another mother?"

Molly shook her head definitively. "No, I don't imagine that anyone could. And now we'll be able to look after each other's kids … not like we haven't always thought of Hermione as one of our own," she added quickly, and Carol smiled again, this time at Molly.

"Yes, I know you have. And I can't tell you how grateful we've been for that. It's sometimes hard living in a different world from your child. That isn't something I'd imagine you'd ever had to face, though."

She was wrong. Hermione knew it; Ginny knew it; Molly knew it, but Carol had no idea why this woman, who she was quickly coming to think of as a friend, had suddenly turned away, her eyes full and her lips trembling.

"Molly?" she asked, concern in her voice. "Molly… I'm sorry. I didn't realize… I just didn't think this was a problem you..."

She trailed off, unsure of what to say, even as Ginny and Hermione tried to smile at her and both failed. Neither of them spoke, though, until Molly finally forced herself to swallow hard and turn back.

"It's not your fault," she said, her voice shaking. "And you're right in the sense that we've never had children living different lives from our own… well, Percy did for a bit, but he's finished with that now. It's just… I know what it's like to miss a child."

She couldn't say any more, but now the enormity of what she'd said hit Carol, and she gasped, her hand going to her mouth.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she whispered. "Hermione told us, of course, about your son, but I just didn't think that…"

She stopped. There was only one thing she could do. Getting out of her seat, she moved to sit beside her new friend and put her arms around her. Squeezing her tightly, she whispered, "It's a mother's worst nightmare, isn't it?"

Molly nodded against her shoulder, grateful to suddenly have one to lean against. "It's always been mine," she managed to say.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and then, with a visible steeling of her spine, Molly sat up. She gave her daughters and Carol a watery smile.

"Enough of that for tonight," she said, injecting a note of cheer into her voice. "Tonight's a celebration."

The other three nodded, though Ginny's eyes were suspiciously bright and Hermione's smile was slightly crooked. A celebration – well, it was supposed to be. And they would try their hardest to make it one.

* * *

Molly did manage to cheer herself up. The effusive compliments she received on her cooking from both the Grangers and her own family certainly helped considerably. They were all enjoying her newest cake creation ("But Mum, I don't _want_ to cut off Hermione's _nose_," Ron had exclaimed in mock horror when the cake came floating toward them, bearing a startlingly disturbing resemblance to the happy couple) when Arthur raised his glass.

"I want to make a … a toast, is it?" he asked, turning to Richard, who nodded encouragingly. Arthur beamed at him and then turned back to face the rest of the group.

"So," he continued, "a toast. First, I want to welcome Carol and Richard to our family. We have loved Hermione for over eight years now, and we are thrilled that she is going to become a Weasley. We hope this is just the first of many family celebrations."

"Hear, hear!" Bill called, raising his glass, and his father smiled at him.

"As you can see, this is a family sentiment. And that's what we are now, one family. I know that you accept Ron as your own just as we accept Hermione. Parents can ask for nothing more than for their children to find true love, and I know these two have found it with each other. No one can find a couple that is more perfect than these two are for each other."

Harry laughed appreciatively, and Arthur grinned at him. "No one knows that better than Harry, of course," he added, and both Ron and Hermione looked at their friend, who smiled back at them, clearly happier than he'd been in a long time.

"So to wrap this up," Arthur said, now looking only at his youngest son and the girl he'd soon call another daughter, "I want to thank you two for not only bringing so much love to each other but for bringing happiness back to this family. It's been a tough year, but you've shown us all that life does go on and that good things still can happen. I know Fred would be happy too if he were here."

The table went silent, and Katie, who was sitting beside George, felt his entire body go tense. She reached for his hand under the table, but he stared straight ahead, seemingly unable to move.

There was a momentary pause while Arthur mastered his voice and then said, "On behalf of Molly and myself, welcome to the family, Grangers." He raised his glass and after a moment, everyone else did the same.

"That was a lovely toast," Carol said quietly, and Molly smiled at her gratefully.

"It was," she said, and Arthur looked down the table at her, nodding wordlessly.

"I'm glad Hermione's marrying into such a big family," Richard said, trying desperately to alleviate the tension he didn't fully understand and start a normal conversation. "I never had siblings myself, and I've always been sorry we didn't give Hermione any. It's nice that she'll have six now."

It had the complete opposite effect. Without a word to anyone, George bolted from the table. Katie turned white but stayed in her seat, and Richard looked around in utter confusion. No one spoke for a moment until Bill said stiffly, "we used to be seven."

Richard's eyes widened as Hermione's news of a year ago came echoing back, and he looked at Arthur, stricken.

"I'm sorry," he said, desperate to fix what he had done, but Arthur waved it aside.

"You couldn't have known," he said quietly, trying to control his panic. He turned to Katie. "Don't you want to go after George?"

She looked at him, and the fear in her eyes was unmistakable.

"I do," she said, "but I'm the wrong person. And I don't know who the right one is… I don't know who could understand."

For a moment, no one spoke, and then, to everyone's surprise, Harry stood up.

"I'll go," he said quietly. Without looking at Ginny, without looking at anyone, he walked off in the same direction that George had gone.

Arthur and Molly looked at one another, worry etched plainly on their faces. Harry was as good a choice as any. They just didn't hold out much hope that it would help.


	58. Ghosts

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: Woo the chapters are getting longer again! I hope this one lived up to expectations. It took me a while to figure out. And I guess the next one is clear too.

Harry walked through the orchard, wishing he'd thought to grab a sweatshirt. Once outside of the Weasleys' magically heated garden, it was very cold. He wasn't sure how far he'd have to go to find George, and he wasn't even sure anymore why he'd volunteered to go. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He did know why he'd stood up. For some reason, he'd looked over at George when he'd bolted from the table, and, well … he'd understood. He understood how it felt to be angry at someone for leaving you even when that person hadn't left by choice. There was a while when nothing could make it feel any less voluntary.

He shivered as he walked further into the shade of the trees. He hoped George hadn't gotten too far away. He also hoped George wouldn't find it absolutely ridiculous that Harry was the person coming to look for him. Katie would have made more sense, but she'd looked so scared. Ginny or Bill, even, probably should have gone, but neither of them had been able to do more than stare in the general direction of where George had vanished to. They were still frozen, Harry was sure, by Richard Granger's well-meaning but ultimately destructive remark about the six Weasley children. Now that Harry thought of it, though… Mr. Granger had mentioned Hermione gaining six siblings. He had to suppress a smile… he'd been counting Ron too, apparently. For dentists, math clearly wasn't a strong suit.

His foot caught a twig and snapped it in half. The sound almost masked the uneven breathing coming from behind the tree to Harry's left – almost. He did hear it, though, and he slowed, suddenly unwilling to intrude. This was George, his best mate's older brother, one of the infamous Weasley twins. He was … well, he was supposed to make everyone laugh. He wasn't supposed to sound like _this_.

Harry hesitated for a moment before deciding that he couldn't go through with this. He would have to turn back and just send someone else in his place. He had already taken three steps toward the Burrow when images of Molly and Arthur's faces floated before him. They hadn't thought it strange that he'd be the one to go. In fact, he was almost positive that they'd looked relieved. He stopped again. If they could find it normal for him to go after George, maybe George, himself, wouldn't think it the oddest thing ever.

Taking a deep breath, he turned again. With deliberate steps, he brought himself back to the tree and took a step around it.

There was George, his back to the tree and his head in his arms. After a momentary pause, Harry settled himself a few feet away, off to George's right. He didn't want to be in his direct line of sight, and he didn't want to sit too close. He hoped he'd picked a good spot.

For a while, it didn't seem like it would matter at all. George showed no sign that he'd even heard Harry approach, and he didn't lift his head. Harry, however, knew better. He knew what it was like to feel this way and want to be alone, but he also remembered how much he'd appreciated Luna's company when he'd been feeling much like George was right now. All you needed was someone who understood, even a little bit – and sometimes that could be enough. He hoped that was also true for George.

His patience paid off. George still didn't look up, but he finally spoke.

"Why'd _you _come," he asked, his voice unnaturally rough. Even inside the darkness of his arms, he winced. He didn't mean to sound so angry. None of this was _Harry's_ fault, for Merlin's sake.

But Harry didn't seem to take offense. He just said simply, "Because I get it."

Neither of them spoke. Then George mumbled, "No one gets it."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Well, that's true too. I never had siblings, so I don't know what it's like to lose one – and especially how hard it must be when it's your twin."

George's eyes started stinging, but he was afraid to move to wipe them. Harry could NOT see him cry. He just shifted around and hoped Harry would take that as agreement.

Harry sat there, wondering if he should go. This conversation certainly wasn't going anywhere productive. As soon as he started to stand, though, George mumbled, "Thanks for coming out here, though."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down to the ground. "No problem," he said quietly.

George swallowed hard. He had to ask. Here was the one person who might actually have an answer.

"It's just… " He sighed. "Well, how can you ever be happy about anything if you know that your parents aren't here for it and Sirius isn't here for it and Lupin isn't here for it and … "

That was when he had to stop. Harry did get it. Because the list could go on, and even from the safety of his arms, he knew that he was making Harry miserable, and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

It took Harry a long time to answer.

"It's obviously hard," he said, his voice now strained. "But you have to know that Fred would want you happy just like I know that my – that all of the people you mentioned would want me happy too. They loved us, George. They wouldn't want us to be miserable forever."

There was silence at George tried to process the words he'd heard from so many people in the last 18 months. They sounded different coming from Harry, somehow. They sounded … right. And without realizing what he was doing, everything he'd said to Katie in the shop came spilling out of his mouth.

"If he really wanted me to be happy, he'd still be here. He'd be a ghost. He'd know I still need to talk to him."

George knew his ear was flushed, and he was grateful for the darkness. He couldn't believe what he'd just done.

Harry, however, didn't seem fazed.

"I know it seems that way," he said slowly and carefully, "but that isn't necessarily true."

Now George raised his head. This wasn't the answer he expected. He didn't look at Harry; he looked straight ahead, but Harry could tell he was listening. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Back when … when Sirius died," he began and then he had to stop. He waited, blinking hard, trying not to remember that time too clearly, trying just to get through what he knew he had to tell George.

He started again. "I ran into Nearly Headless Nick on my way to the Great Hall a couple of days later. I stopped him. I wanted to know when I could expect to see Sirius. I was sure that if he had the option, he'd take it, and he'd be back talking to me in no time at all. He wouldn't just leave me alone like that."

He had to stop again. As much as he was trying just to talk and not remember… it wasn't working. He was suddenly reliving those awful days when he'd never felt more alone, and his own eyes were burning. But he knew he had to continue. George was listening.

"So I saw Nick, and he said – well, he said that Sirius wouldn't be coming back. He said that not everyone does. He did because he was afraid of death, but he said that Sirius would have chosen to go on. And it took me a while, George, but I have to think that's a good thing. I have to think it's good that he wasn't afraid of death. I have to think it's good that he's not stuck here just for MY sake. I don't want that for him. And I can't imagine you would want that for Fred."

George was frozen, but this time, it was with shame. It was a long time before he was able to answer.

When he did, he tried to talk around the lump in his throat.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely. "I didn't know any of that. But did you – did you feel bad that you'd wanted it? Did you feel like you'd disrespected Sirius by thinking HE'D want that?"

Harry shook his head and then realized that George still hadn't looked at him.

"No," he said. "Why would I feel bad when I didn't know anything about it? Of course, if I'd known what it meant to be a ghost, I'd never have hoped he'd become one. But I didn't know. Just like you didn't. There's nothing to feel bad about."

George sighed. Neither he nor Harry spoke again for a few minutes and then, to Harry's surprise, George got to his feet. He didn't look down, but Harry could see he was waiting for him, so he stood up as well. Neither of them could seem to bring himself to look at the other, and after a moment, they just started walking.

They were almost back to the Burrow when George muttered, "It helped."

"Good," Harry mumbled.

No one said a word when they both took their seats at the table. But Ron looked at their faces and then back down at his plate, and Charlie couldn't miss the tears he was obviously trying to hide. This wasn't over yet.


	59. Alone

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: Wow! Now THIS is a long chapter! It's taken me a while, so reviews would be much appreciated. I'm relatively happy with how this issue concluded itself. I even stayed up late to get this up quickly. I hope you enjoy… even if it did make me incredibly sad. (Sorry Katy… Bill was taken for this day… I think he was over in Birthdays doing something kind of similar. I had to use another.)

Dinner ended more peacefully than anyone could have hoped given the minor disruptions, and by the time the Grangers left, Carol and Molly had already set a date for taking Hermione wedding dress shopping in Diagon Alley. (Hermione cast Ginny a desperate look, and although she made a face, Hermione knew that with enough pleading, she could get her future sister-in-law to go along for what was sure to be some adventure.)

That wasn't the most pressing problem now, though. Ron was still not himself, and she had no idea how to make this better. And if she were being completely honest with herself… she was hurt. She understood his pain, and she missed Fred too, of course, but… well, they were engaged. She wanted to be happy. She wanted _him_ to be happy. But there was absolutely no denying that he wasn't. And as supportive as she wanted to be, she needed time to be happy. So she left with her parents. She couldn't look back at him as she went because she knew that one look into his eyes would keep her there.

He knew why she was leaving. How could he blame her? He'd leave himself now too if he could manage it. He wouldn't even be surprised if she never came back, he thought bitterly as he made his way up the stairs to his room. But even as the thought occurred to him, he felt the first stirrings of panic. She had to come back, he tried to reassure himself. They had plans to go dress shopping. He heard them.

He shook his head as he went into his room, trying to free it of these unwanted thoughts. Harry was gone too. He'd gone back to Grimmauld Place when the Grangers left. Ron looked about his suddenly empty room, and the panic that had started to flutter in his stomach now started feeling a lot more like anger.

_Of course they both left_, he thought as he threw himself on the bed and looked around his small, cramped room. _Why on earth would they want to stay here? Why would anyone if they had a choice?_

The more he thought of it, though, the angrier he got. _I can't just up and leave when things get hard_, he thought resentfully. _This is what the rest of my life will be like. This is what the rest of _Hermione's_ life will be like… if she's even willing to spend it with me anymore. But maybe I wouldn't either if I were her. Why shouldn't she find a family that's whole?_

He was being ridiculous. He knew it with a small portion of his mind but not the part that controlled his actions, and as his fury came bubbling to the surface, he hardly realized what he was doing before he reached up and tore down the Chudley Cannon posters that had been on his walls ever since he could remember. As the papers came tumbling down around him, he flung them off and watched as they crumpled on the floor.

_I don't care_, he thought, kicking them viciously. And suddenly, he sprung off his bed and tore at the rest of the posters, slowly revealing walls that hadn't seen the light of day in over eight years. He was standing in the middle of the room, his shoulders heaving, his posters down around his feet, and his face bright red, when he realized someone was standing in the doorway staring at him and at the mess around him.

It was Ginny, and she looked… afraid? But instead of making him ashamed, it only made him angrier.

"_What_?" he snarled rudely, and she jerked back.

"Is – is everything ok?"

He knew she was worried. He knew it was the only question she could really ask. But it didn't stop him from snapping, "Well, that's a stupid question, isn't it?"

He couldn't even look at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that her face was now white, but he had no desire to look at her. If he looked at her, he'd just feel bad about all of this, and he was _so tired_ of feeling bad. Feeling bad didn't accomplish anything. Obviously. Just look at him. Feeling bad just drove everyone away. Given the chance? All anyone did was leave.

"I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I just… I heard the noise and I …" she couldn't say another word. Ron had suddenly looked up at her, and his eyes were blazing.

"Well, I'm fine. FINE," he shouted, and without even thinking about what he was doing, he whirled around and with one sweep of his arm, cleared the surface of his desk and nightstand. The contents flew to the ground with a satisfying crash, and it took a moment before Ron realized that Ginny had fled. Well… good. He was used to that by now.

He'd just settled himself back on his bed, his breath coming in quick, short gasps, when he realized he had a new visitor.

It was Charlie. _Of course it was_, Ron thought angrily. _He can't just leave me alone just like he wants everyone else to leave him alone. I swear he's getting to be just like Bill with this overprotective nonsense._

"What do you want?" he demanded rudely as he turned resolutely away from his older brother. He wasn't about to let him in. He wasn't going to let anyone in. All they'd do was leave him anyhow.

"Well, I'm not going to give them the chance!" he burst out. Charlie stared at the back of his head in confusion but chose to remain silent. There were specific ways of dealing with each of his brothers. The easiest way with Ron – well, there was no easy way.

When it became clear, however, that Ron had nothing more to say – nonsensical or otherwise – Charlie did step into the room.

"You've created quite a mess here," he observed calmly. Ron didn't turn. He didn't make a sound.

As Charlie tried to tiptoe through the debris, however, he heard a loud cracking sound and looked down in dismay. He'd just about crushed a picture frame that he hadn't even noticed was underfoot. He stooped to retrieve it and found himself frozen.

It was all of them. And it was all of them as they were meant to be – seven Weasley kids on holiday with their parents in Egypt, grinning and waving at the camera. Charlie felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched teenage versions of Fred and George silently tormenting Percy.

Ron, confused by the breaking glass and now the silence, finally turned around. He took one look, though, at the picture in Charlie's hand, and quickly turned back. He didn't want to see that. He didn't want to see anything right now that could remind him of the worst abandonment of all.

But Charlie noticed. Silently, he found a path through the mess and sat down beside Ron on his now-cluttered bed. He spoke to his brother's stiff back as if he were merely continuing an ongoing conversation.

"You scared Ginny, you know," he said quietly. "She was just trying to help."

"I don't need help," Ron muttered. He kept his back to Charlie but continued to speak. "I'm fine on my own."

Charlie stared at the back of his head in disbelief. "Fine?" he asked. "Have you looked at this room? At the damage you managed to do in all of 30 seconds? Trust me. This may be impressive… but it is most certainly not fine."

"Well, either way," Ron continued, his voice so low, Charlie had to strain to hear him, "I'm on my own. So I don't have much of a choice. I have to be fine."

Charlie could sit still no longer. Ron hardly realized what was happening when he felt himself being grabbed by the elbow and spun around so forcefully that he was surprised it didn't come jerking out of its socket. Now it was Charlie's turn to be furious.

"Listen to me," he said sharply. "That might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. _You're_ on your _own_? In case you haven't noticed… you have a family. A best friend named Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake… and a fiancée who worships the ground you walk on. If YOU'RE alone… what the bloody hell does that mean for ME?"

Ron stared at him. "A best friend? A fiancée? Really? Where are they? I'll tell you. Gone. A family? Sure… a broken one. One that'll never be whole again. So yeah… I have LOADS of people who care about me… until they all START DISAPPEARING! Don't you get it? EVERYONE leaves eventually. Everyone."

He was breathing more heavily than he had been when he was destroying his room, and he swallowed hard. No. He would NOT get upset. Not now. Not with Charlie sitting there with that look on his face. He still looked angry, but the sympathy was what scared Ron more right now. Anger he could handle….

"Not everyone," Charlie said quietly. "Not anyone, in fact. Hermione went home with her parents. Harry had to get back to Grimmauld Place but only cause he's been HERE these past few days. No one's left you…"

Ron swallowed again. He didn't want to say it, but it lay between them like a huge void, and there was no way to avoid falling in now.

"Fred." It was all he said, but it was enough. Charlie stared at him, and he stared back, his eyes burning until he quickly looked away.

_Deep breaths_, he urged himself. _You can do this. You don't have to give in now. Not with Charlie here_.

But no amount of internal pep talks could prevent what had already started to happen. As the tears welled up in his eyes, he focused on the blank wall before him, but the absence of his posters only made him more miserable.

"It doesn't even look like my room anymore," he heard himself choke out, and he wanted to kick himself. Why had he said that? If he hadn't spoken, he could have kept pretending he was ok. And that was what he wanted, wasn't it? For Charlie to think he was ok? He let out a shuddering breath and was trying to think of the most surreptitious way possible to wipe his eyes when Charlie grabbed his elbow for the second time. This time, however, the gentleness in his touch destroyed any last resolve Ron might have had.

With a sob, he collapsed into the hug Charlie provided, and his older brother held him tightly as he shook with the tears he could no longer hide.

"He didn't leave you, you know," Charlie whispered. "I know it feels that way right now, but you knew Fred better than that. You know he'd never have left any of us if he had the choice."

Ron nodded against his brother's shirt, trying to ignore the pain in Charlie's own voice. He knew he was right. He'd just needed someone to say those words more than he'd realized.

It took a few minutes for either of them to be ready to talk again, but when Ron finally scrubbed away the tears to his satisfaction, he found himself face to face with Ginny. This time, she didn't look scared. She just looked sad as she stood before him, and he felt his eyes welling up again.

"Is she going to come back?" he asked plaintively, hating himself for the vulnerability he could hear in his voice. "I wouldn't blame her if she didn't, but …"

Ginny shook her head in disbelief and then sat on his other side, putting her arm across his shoulders.

"Of course she's coming back, you git," she whispered. "She loves you no matter how exasperating you might be. You should know that by now."

He managed a small smile as he nodded at her, but then it faded, and he said, shamefaced, "I haven't been very excited about the engagement. I know I haven't been fair to her."

Charlie cleared his throat, and both his brother and sister turned to him.

"Well, Ginny?" he asked, deliberately injecting a note of cheer into his voice and a smile onto his face. "I think it's time we helped him come up with a plan to woo her back."

Ginny smiled as well. "Merlin knows he'll need our help."

Ron glanced back and forth between his siblings and suddenly realized something he knew he'd never admit. Charlie was right. He wasn't alone after all.


	60. Ginny's release

Disclaimer: This story is mine; Harry Potter is not.

A/N: I'm so glad I finally had time to get back to this! This went in a completely different direction that what I'd expected. It was another one that was kind of sad but kind of necessary at the same time. And it sets up a whole lot more material, so I can keep writing. ) I don't know what I'd do without this story. Please review if you're reading. It is much appreciated.

Harry sat on his bed and stared at the wall. There was no way he could know that miles away at the Burrow, Ron was doing the same. Ginny had apparated in to his room unexpectedly just minutes before and had gone to the kitchen for a cup of tea. He chewed his lip and rubbed his scar nervously. He wanted her to come back. He needed to know why she looked so sad.

He glanced up as the door creaked open, and one look at his girlfriend's face only magnified his concerns. Ginny was the tough one. Now she looked shaken. It couldn't have been easy over at the Burrow after he'd left.

She sat silently beside him, and they both pushed themselves up so their backs were against the wall. She held a steaming mug, and she sipped it carefully. He knew he'd have to be the first to speak.

"So… how was everyone when you left?" It was a stupid question, but he never felt more inept than he did when Ginny was upset. As much as he hated to admit it, he was typically the one who needed comforting when any difficult situations ever arose. He was never the one comforting her.

She let out a shaky breath. "Ron," she said in a low voice. "He – he wasn't doing so well tonight. I didn't know what to say to him. I – I actually ran."

Harry couldn't keep the look of surprise off his face, and Ginny winced. He quickly reached over and took her free hand.

"I'm sure you had a reason," he said gently. "I know what Ron's like when he's going through a hard time. I might have left too."

She stiffened, and he somehow knew that it was what he said – and that maybe he didn't want to know why she suddenly wasn't looking at him anymore.

"What happened," he asked now, and he surprised both of them with the firmness of his voice. But Ginny turned to him. She needed to tell someone. No matter how much it hurt.

"He feels abandoned," she whispered. She shook her head. "God, it sounds so stupid, doesn't it? 'He feels.' Like Ron Weasley ever talked about his feelings a day in his life?"

Harry lips twitched in a hint of a smile, but then his expression once again sobered. This wasn't funny. And they both knew it.

"Charlie talked to him," she continued. "I'd run and then he'd gone in there. And I wanted to know why Ron was so angry and why he'd torn all of his posters down, so I grabbed an Extendable Ear from Fred and – from George's room," she corrected herself, swallowing hard. She stared down at her lap, and Harry was glad. Neither of them wanted to look at each other right then.

"He feels abandoned," she repeated. "And he mentioned Hermione, and he mentioned you, and then…" and here she trailed off. She couldn't continue, but Harry hardly noticed.

"He feels – he feels abandoned by ME?" He asked, his voice stunned. That was impossible. He'd never leave Ron, not if he could help it. He had to know that. There was no way he didn't know that.

When Ginny didn't answer for a few moments, he finally looked up. She was still focused on the bed, but Harry suddenly noticed the tear drops on her knee. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, letting out a shuddering sigh before continuing.

"I don't think he really does, not by you," she said, her voice quavering but still functional. He marveled momentarily at her strength as she continued. "When Charlie pointed out that you'd only come back here because you'd been at the Burrow with him for the last few days, he didn't argue. It's not you, Harry. And it's not Hermione, either. It's Fred."

The last two words were almost inaudible, but they rocked him. He felt as though someone had knocked the wind out of him, and he stared at Ginny without seeing her.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, she said, "I think – I think Charlie convinced him that Fred's – that he's not gone by choice. But still. It's hard not to have him here now. He should – he should be here now." She couldn't say another word over the lump in her throat.

Harry was having the same problem. Every time he opened his mouth to answer her, he felt a sob rising, and he closed it again. After three successive tries, he managed to form words – though how she understood him, he never knew.

"You're right," he choked. "He should be."

Now Ginny looked up. One look into her tearful brown eyes was all it took to break Harry, and he pulled her forward into his arms, wrapping them around her tightly as she shook with sobs. Tears streamed down his own face and into her hair, but she never pulled back to see. She didn't want to.

When she finally calmed down, so had Harry. She looked up at him and smiled weakly, ignoring his red nose and eyes. He smiled back, grateful for the tact.

"Thank you," she whispered. She put her head back against his chest and continued to talk. "I think –I know Fred would be happy for all of us. I do. Sometimes it just gets hard to remember that he'd also want us to be happy too. I don't think he'd have thought that we could do that without him, though."

Harry's lips twitched again. "You're probably right," he conceded. "But we can try, can't we?"

Ginny nodded. There was a more comfortable silence until she pulled away again to look at him again.

"But don't go getting any ideas about ANOTHER all-Gryffindor wedding any time soon. Mum couldn't handle two at once."

Harry nodded, forcing himself to keep the smile on his face even as it threatened to slip. He would do whatever he could to make her happy. Even if it meant he wouldn't be.


	61. Nine months later

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: A longer chapter, and we jump ahead in time once again. I don't know where this whole idea came from, but part of it made me laugh, and part of it made me so sad. I don't know when I realized how hard some of this would be for Harry… major angst ahead.

"It's a nice dress," Hermione said wearily. They were all nice dresses. She'd have been happy with any one of them if it meant her mother and Mrs. Weasley would just leave her alone. But they weren't anywhere near done, and she was fading fast. She cast a desperate glance at Ginny, who tried hard not to laugh.

"Mum," she said casually, walking over to Molly and putting a hand on her shoulder, effectively stilling the twitching wand that kept raising the hem of the dress to levels that were making Hermione blush. Molly turned to her daughter.

"Yes, dear?"

"Why don't you and Carol go get some tea? Or ice cream? Or even pop into the Leaky Cauldron? I'll help Hermione for a little while. You two have already done a lot today."

Molly hesitated, but Hermione said breathlessly, "That's a great idea, Ginny. Mum, why don't the two of you go? You need a break, I'm sure. After all… there's still plenty more to do." She tried not to sound as weak as she felt when she said that last bit.

The mothers finally stopped staring at Hermione's reflection and looked at one another.

"Do you want to?" Molly asked, and Carol smiled, nodding with relief.

"I think I need to get off my feet," she observed as they walked out arm in arm. Once the door closed behind them, Hermione collapsed in a heap, ignoring the fact that the white dress now lay puddled around her.

"_She_ needs to get off her feet?" she said, her voice shrill in contrast with her apparent inability to move.

Ginny laughed and approached her soon-to-be sister. "Come here," she said, reaching out to grab Hermione's hands and pulling her to her feet. "You need to get off the floor, or they'll make you buy this one, and they haven't decided yet if it's the right one for your complexion or your hair or your eyes or whatever."

By now, Hermione was laughing too. "Thank you for coming home for this," she said to Ginny as they walked into the changing room and Ginny helped her out of the white monstrosity. "I know it was hard for you to get the time off."

Ginny brushed off the gratitude. "It's fine," she said matter-of-factly, using her wand to hoist the dress over Hermione's head and then turning her back to adjust it on its hanger as Hermione wriggled gratefully back into her own clothes. "I wanted to see Harry anyway."

Now there was a silence between them, and it wasn't quite as comfortable. Hermione took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Maybe it wasn't her place to say anything. But if she didn't… would Ginny ever find out?

She sighed. She had to. There was no choice.

"How… have things been with him?" she asked carefully, turning to where Ginny was now fighting with the dress. The redhead's wand slowed, but she didn't turn around.

"Fine," she said, her voice carefully neutral. Why would Hermione be asking? How could she even know that things were suddenly weird, and she had no idea why?

Hermione paused. Was it worth the risk of an exploding Ginny? But then Harry's face floated before her as it had looked on that night, and she knew it was.

"I think… you two need to talk," she said in a rush, and now Ginny did turn around. Her expression was controlled, but Hermione could see the mix of fear, confusion and worry in her eyes.

"I think you need to tell me what happened," she said, her voice low.

Hermione nodded. There was no help for it.

* * *

_It had only been two weeks ago. __She'd gotten to Grimmauld Place one night after work and was surprised to find that Ron hadn't gotten home yet. But Harry was there. He was sitting in the room with the Black family tree hanging on the wall, and Hermione almost hadn't noticed him. If he hadn't sneezed, she might not have seen him at all. _

_She walked in slowly, unsure if he'd want to see her. __But __s__he couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him look so down._

_"Hello, Harry," she said quietly. She sat beside him on the couch, looked at where he was looking, and felt a chill course down her spine. He was staring at the burnt hole where Sirius's name should have been, and if she hadn't known any better, she would have sworn that there were tears in his eyes._

_But he forced a smile. __"Hey, Hermione. Ron home yet?"_

_She shook her head. There was more silence until she finally had to do what she knew only she would._

_"What's wrong?" she asked softly. _

_There was a long silence, so long that Hermione felt sure that Harry wasn't going to answer her, and then he said, his voice hoarse, "will you – will you go somewhere with me?"_

_In Hermione's world, this wasn't a question. __She gave Harry the sort of look he'd been accustomed to getting when he'd stopped trying to figure out his clues for the Triwizard tournament, and he almost smiled before reaching for her hand. _

_"Side along?" he asked, and she nodded, slightly mystified. It was clear that he didn't want to tell her where they were going, and she couldn't imagine why… until they got there._

_She didn't need to look around to know where they were. All she knew was that this time, they hadn't used Polyjuice. This time, they were themselves. This time – it was bound to be harder._

_He was still holding her hand as they approached the grave, and he showed no sign of wanting to let go. Hermione __just held on tightly __and __stayed silent. There was nothing for her to say, she realized. He just needed her there, and __remembering__ the one other __time__ they'd __been there together__, there was __very little question as to why._

_Harry stared at the headstone. It had been months since he'd been back here. It was still too hard to come back to Godric's Hollow with any kind of regularity. He'd thought it might be easier if he could bring Ginny with him, but now he wasn't so sure about that either. But Hermione… well, she'd been here with him before. She knew._

_"I came back to see you," he whispered, knowing he sounded ridiculous but unable to stop himself. "I only wish I didn't have to do that here. I wish you were here to meet Ginny, Mum. You'd love her, I bet. And Dad… she's a professional Quidditch player. Imagine the fun you'd have had talking to her. But now … I don't even know if she wants to be with me anyway. I want to marry her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, but she doesn't. She doesn't want…"_

_And suddenly, he was choking on sobs he hadn't even realized he was holding back, and he couldn't say another word. He was still holding Hermione'__s hand, and she __stood stock still, afraid to move, until he pulled her __to him, hugging __her__ tightl__y. He tried to take deep breaths, but they kept hitching in his throat. Finally, he swallowed hard, and with his arms still around Hermione, he whispered, "Why can't they be here to help? I have no one to help me with this."_

_Hermione's own eyes were full, and she just hugged him harder. "You have me," she said softly. "I know it isn't the same, but you'll always have me _and_ Ron. We love you."_

_He nodded but didn't let go of her. "I know I do. And you know I feel the same way. But … it isn't the same. You have your parents. Ron has his parents. Ginny has her parents. But me… I don't have my parents; I don't have Sirius; I don't have Remus anymore either. I don't have anyone who can tell me things will work out. I need someone who can tell me that." He turned his gaze back to the headstone._

_"I want things to be all right," he choked, looking at Lily and James's names, the only tangible sign of them in this cold, dark place. "I want to marry her. I want to have children with her and name them after you. But I don't think she wants that."_

_And now he started to cry in earnest, and there was nothing Hermione could say or do except hold on tightly and hope she'd have a chance to talk to Ginny. Her heart was breaking for her best friend as she realized just how alone he really was._

* * *

Ginny stared at Hermione, her own eyes glistening.

"I do love him," she said hoarsely. Hermione nodded.

"I know you do," she said softly. "And I think you probably want to marry him someday?"

Ginny nodded, furiously swiping at her eyes, suddenly refusing to meet her friend's gaze.

"So tell him that," Hermione said simply.

Now they looked at one another, and Ginny nodded slowly. There was no choice.


	62. Proposal Part 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: Well, this is definitely a mix of angst and happy… well, you'll see. I couldn't leave Harry in misery like that for more than a chapter. It was making me too sad. This story is drawing to an end, though. There's not too much more to go. I know I want to go back to For Harry and add a couple more chapters, but I'm desperately trying to think of a new story. I'd be happy for suggestions if anyone has any ideas.

Ron sat in the living room, hungry, cold, and anxiously awaiting Ginny and Hermione's return from what he could only imagine must be a disastrous trip to Diagon Alley. He hadn't heard from either girl all day, and while he did feel bad for Hermione, he also couldn't help but be relieved that HE did not have to go through this.

He sat before the fireplace, and his mind wandered to the second floor of the house where he knew Harry would be brooding in his room once again. He sighed. This was becoming a nightly occurrence. He had some idea of what was bothering his best friend, but he knew Hermione knew a lot more about it. He didn't ask her, though. He didn't blame Harry for talking to Hermione. That was just what they did when they were upset about something.

He was despairing of ever getting to eat dinner when the girls apparated into the house, landing just inside the front door. He heard their appearance, but when it wasn't followed by any giggles or whispers, he got out of his chair, worrying creasing his face. This wasn't normal.

By the time he'd made it to the hallway, Ginny was already a red blur on her way up the stairs, and Hermione was walking toward him, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion and … was she sad? He started to get nervous. Sure, he'd gotten a lot better with emotions in the last year or so, but that didn't mean he was GOOD at this. But then he looked at her face and realized that it didn't matter. She was worth the effort.

He pulled her into the living room and waited for her to sit on the couch before he sat beside her and pulled her legs up onto his lap. For a long time, she didn't say a word. She stared into the fire, and he almost thought she'd been mesmerized by the flames when she mumbled, "Well, I still don't have a dress."

Ron looked up from his own contemplation of the fire, and he turned to her. Her expression was almost despairing, and he tried hard not to laugh.

"How many did you look at?"

She shrugged. "Do you honestly think I remember? Your mother kept flying them off the hangers and over my head. On and off, on and off… my mum was so thrilled, I think, that we had magic to help us along that she kept calling for more. " She turned to look at him pitifully. "My arms are tired."

Ron tried not to smile. "Come here," he said, and he gently shoved her feet off his lap and pulled her toward him so her head rested on his shoulder. She sighed, the air leaking out of her like a deflating balloon. There was silence for a moment, and Ron had almost convinced himself that this was the whole problem, when Hermione said, "Did – did Harry talk to you at all today?"

Ron shook his head, and he felt her body tense up again. He pulled away slightly so he could look into her eyes.

"What's going on," he asked flatly. He needed to know now. There was no other option, not if it were worrying Hermione this much.

"It's just – well, do you promise not to get crazy?"

He managed to look offended even though he knew there was a fair point somewhere in that question.

"Yes, I promise not to get crazy," he said stiffly.

Hermione paused, deciding how much to say. "I spoke to Ginny today," she began slowly. "I told her – I told her why Harry's not been himself lately. I don't know if I did the right thing."

Ron smoothed her hair and said, "Well, what did you tell her?"

Now Hermione knew she had to tread carefully. "It's just – he took me to Godric's Hollow with him a couple of weeks ago. He wants – he wants to marry Ginny. He was pretty upset. He doesn't think she wants to marry him, and I think he's really been missing his parents and Sirius and Remus lately."

Her voice was very low, but Ron heard every word. So, unfortunately, did Ginny. Neither of them realized she was standing in the doorway until she snapped, "Well, that's just great, Hermione. How many people are you planning on discussing this with?"

Hermione jumped, but Ron held onto her tightly and glared at his sister.

"Watch it, Ginny," he said, trying to stay calm. "You know she didn't tell me anything I shouldn't know."

Ginny didn't answer. She just glared at Ron, and he stared right back at her, Hermione forgotten. Until she spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "but we're both worried about him, Ginny. We're the ones who see him every day now. We just want to help."

Neither Ginny nor Ron turned to look at her, but Ginny's eyes softened with the telltale hint of tears. Ron shifted uncomfortably. This was NOT the person he knew how to help in moments like these. Hermione was one thing. Ginny was something else entirely.

It was ok, though. She didn't want him to see either. She looked directly at Hermione, pretended that her brother wasn't there, and said, "I think – I think he just went back there. I tried to talk to him, and he got really upset and just … left. I don't know how to get there. Will you take me?"

Ron suddenly found himself alone on the couch as Hermione detached herself from him and got up to take Ginny's hand. "Absolutely," she said firmly.

Neither of them looked at him as they disapparated, and he shook his head in complete frustration, closing his eyes and sliding down on the couch. He could go after them, but he wouldn't – for Harry's sake. He knew he'd probably be the last person Harry would want to have with him _there_. He never wanted any company when he went to see Fred. This was something that he now – unfortunately – understood.

* * *

Hermione got herself and Ginny to the gates of the graveyard, and even from that distance, they could see Harry's form, silhouetted against the white headstone. They approached slowly, and once they were close enough, Hermione whispered, "I'm going to go back to your brother. I just – good luck," she said simply.

Ginny looked at her and nodded. "Thanks," she mumbled, and then without a backward glance, she walked off toward her boyfriend.

Harry didn't hear her until she was right beside him, and once he glanced over, he froze. He tried to take deep breaths to stop the tears he'd give anything for her not to see, but she was looking at him now, and he couldn't bring himself to turn away. Finally, deciding to pretend nothing was amiss, he said, "How did you get here?"

"Hermione," she said. She didn't look at him. She was reading a headstone she'd only had described to her, and she felt a lump in her own throat. She wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand, but she didn't know what he wanted anymore. According to Hermione, he wanted her, but right now, that didn't seem to be the case at all.

Harry shifted from one foot to the other. At this moment, he both loved and hated Hermione. He had Ginny here with him at last but not in the way he'd ever imagined.

It was a while before either of them spoke. And when he did, he didn't speak to her.

"Well, this is Ginny," he said, and a chill coursed down her spine. His voice shook. "I'd hoped to bring her here at another time, but she found her way here by herself. She's pretty impressive like that. I get the feeling that she's a lot like you, Mum, and not just because of the red hair."

He stopped speaking, and he and Ginny both knew it was because he couldn't say another word. She took a step sideways and took his hand. Holding it tightly, she cleared her throat.

"Hi Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she said softly, her voice full of tears. "I'm sorry I'll never get to meet you. But I feel like I have because I am in love with your son. I'm pretty sure I'm even going to marry him someday, and then we'll have kids, and we'll name them Lily and James. And we'll tell them all about you."

Harry's sniffling was now audible, and she let go of his hand so she could wrap her arms around his waist. It took him a while to calm down, but when he had, he let out a deep breath, put his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. He had to do it now. There was no other option.

He swallowed hard. "Ginny, we don't have to plan this for a long time. But – well, you said it, and this just seems like the right place and…" He trailed off, unsure of how to continue until she forced herself to smile.

" The answer's yes," she said softly, and now he pulled her to him again but this time it was to kiss her and hug her and hope she wouldn't see that his eyes had welled up again. With his arms still around her, he turned to look at the grave.

"This is Ginny," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "She's going to be my wife."


	63. The best men

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: Well, I'm finding that there's more left to write than I'd initially thought. I like the pair in this chapter, though. It's been a while since they've gotten some time to themselves.

By the time Harry and Ginny got back to Grimmauld Place, Ron and Hermione were asleep. They newly engaged couple had spent more time in Godric's Hollow than either of them had expected to. Once Harry had pulled himself together, he'd shown Ginny the graves of Dumbledore's family members and then the remains of his parents' house. Ginny watched Harry's face as he showed her around, and as the emotions of grief, loneliness, happiness and loss flickered across it, she felt like she'd never understood him better.

When they returned to his bedroom, they were subdued, but there was a joy in Harry that hadn't been there before, and Ginny couldn't help but smile. _She'd_ made him this happy. She couldn't believe that she had this kind of power, but she was glad she did.

They'd gotten into bed, and Ginny was starting to relax for the first time in days when Harry mumbled, "So I was just thinking about who will be our best man and maid of honor."

Ginny turned to him in confusion. "Best man…?"

"My best man… your maid of honor… I don't mean we have to start planning or anything," he added hastily, "but I'd just kind of like to know who will be up there with us."

Ginny lay there, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. She wasn't ready to plan a wedding yet, but she believed him when he said that he needed to do this. After the night they'd just spent together, she'd never felt closer to him, and she knew that Harry needed to know that he had people around him who cared. She couldn't deny him that.

"Well," she said quietly, "I assumed we'd ask Ron and Hermione, right?"

Harry sighed with relief, and she knew he'd been worried that she wouldn't even want to have the conversation.

"Yeah," he said, and he seemed to be settling down even more comfortably as he said, "I definitely think they're the right people for us to ask. It's just… do you think it's weird that neither of them have mentioned anything to us about their wedding?"

Ginny turned to him in surprise. "He hasn't? Because Hermione asked me…"

Now it was Harry's turn to be surprised. "She – she did?"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm sure Ron just hasn't gotten around to it yet," she said hesitantly.

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "I'm sure that's it."

He wasn't sure at all. Neither was she. But neither of them knew what else to say.

* * *

The next morning, Harry kissed Ginny goodbye and then waited until he heard Hermione leave before he worked up the courage to face Ron. 

Ron looked up from the kitchen table and smiled at Harry when he walked into the room.

"You look better," he observed bluntly, and Harry made a face that Ron could only have described as halfway between a grin and a wince.

"I need to tell you something," he said, lowering himself into the chair across from Ron's. Ron looked at him curiously, and Harry swallowed hard. He couldn't help but remember Ron's reaction when he and Ginny had first started seeing each other, and even though he'd supposedly gotten used to it, he was unpredictable to say the least when it came to things like these.

Ron's eyes were questioning, and Harry knew he needed to just go for it.

"Ginny and I got engaged last night," he blurted out. Ron's eyes widened, and Harry found himself very tempted to leave the room, but he forced himself to stay in his chair even when Ron got out of his.

He came around the table, and Harry found that his hands were clenched more tightly around the sides of his chair with every step his friend took. And then Ron was standing beside him, and Harry realized he was waiting for something. He looked up, and Ron's face was unreadable, but he gestured for Harry to stand, which he did, so quickly that his chair almost toppled over.

The two of them stood looking at each other until Ron suddenly reached out and they were hugging tightly.

"I've got another brother, huh," Ron said into Harry's shoulder, and Harry found that his eyes were stinging. He was getting what he'd always wanted – a real family.

"Yeah," he said. It was all he could manage.

After a moment, they released each other, and Ron went back to his own seat as they both quickly turned away from each other to wipe their eyes. Once they were back in their chairs, they smiled, and Harry said casually, "So, feel like going to Diagon Alley with me today? I wasn't exactly… prepared last night. I still need to get a ring."

Ron laughed. "Honestly, mate? That's something they would have expected of _me_."

Harry laughed as he had to concede the truth of this statement.

When they finished their breakfast, they disapparated to Madame Malkin's and looked in the window speculatively.

"Do you reckon we'll need to get dress robes for this?" Ron asked Harry, and Harry looked in the window and then at his friend.

"Well, think about your mum. What would she say?"

Ron winced. "Ok, ok. Point taken. Let's get moving."

They wandered down the street, looking in windows, and neither of them felt the need to mention how different this was from the trips they used to take here with all of the Weasleys. Some things were better left unsaid.

They were wandering around the jewelry shop when Harry finally said what had been on his mind all morning. His eyes were trained on the rings in the case, and he said in what he hoped was a casual tone, "So Ginny and I were talking about who we want up there with us at our wedding. And – well – I was hoping you'd be my best man."

Ron froze. Harry saw it, and his heart sank. Somehow – if Ron said no to this – it would be almost as bad as Ginny rejecting his proposal. He turned away, afraid to let Ron see the look in his eyes, when he heard him say, "Harry, I'd love to be your best man. I just – well, I've been wanting to talk to you about this for a while."

Now Harry turned back. There was something in Ron's voice that hadn't been there before, but when Harry looked at him, Ron stared into the case.

"I want you to be my best man," he said, his voice low. "It's right, and you should be. And I hope you'll be one of my groomsmen. But I … well, I think I have to ask George. It's just – he needs to be this for someone, and he was always going to be for Fred. And I haven't asked him yet because I don't want him to think about that, but I don't know – Hermione thought it would be the right thing to do too. Please don't be mad," he concluded, his voice now almost inaudible. He was still staring into the case when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He looked up into Harry's face, and the understanding in his eyes forced him to look back down just as quickly. It was too much to have to say all of that and think about all of that and then to have Harry just –understand like that? Well, it was too much, and he blinked hard.

Harry squeezed his shoulder and didn't say a word. The relief he felt from knowing that Ron would be there for him was almost overwhelming, but the pain he felt for his friend was just as sharp. He stood there with Ron as his best friend struggled to do the right thing in a situation that was much more complicated than it ever should have been, and he knew that Ron was right. He would be there for Harry just as Harry would be there for him. But Harry knew he didn't want to be there when Ron had this conversation with George.


	64. The wrong question

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: I know I could have included the continuation of this scene in this chapter, but I wanted to give Katie and George their own chapter again. It's been a while since they've had the spotlight. It would have been superlong but it's not exactly supershort now. I hope this serves as a good transition.

Ron knew he had to talk to George. Now that he'd told Harry, it was only fair that his brother know what his role would be in the wedding. But he didn't want to. Hermione knew this. She told him every night that he had to do it, but it had been easy to put it off. Now – there was no more putting it off.

They were all back at the Burrow once again. Harry and Ginny had just told the family about their engagement, and everyone was in a good mood, even George. Katie was with him, and he seemed genuinely happy about the newest impending wedding. He kept beaming at Harry and Ginny, and Ron wondered why this one was easier for everyone than his and Hermione's had been. Maybe time did help, he mused. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as he expected.

He waited until the celebrations died down. Most everyone had either left the house or gone to bed, and George and Katie were sitting in the garden together, looking like they were having a very nice conversation that he was loathe to interrupt. Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice when Hermione whispered "you have to do it now. I'll go with you. I'll talk to Katie."

He cast a plaintive glance in her direction, but she looked resolute, and he sighed. It was now or never, apparently. They slowly approached the pair sitting on the bench, and Ron cleared his throat. Katie looked up, her eyes bright and happy. She grinned at them.

"Hey Ron, Hermione. Isn't this just fantastic? I don't think I've ever seen Harry or Ginny look so thrilled."

Hermione smiled at her. "You're right," she agreed. "Hey, do you want to come with me to the kitchen? I need to get a few things together before I go, and if I go by myself, I'll get sucked into another conversation about why I'm rubbish at finding a wedding dress."

Now Katie laughed openly. "Sure. I'll go with you." She released George's hand and followed Hermione into the house. And even though she didn't turn around, Ron saw Hermione's face in his mind, and he knew that if he didn't tell George right now, he'd have to answer to her.

He joined his brother on the bench, and for a moment, they sat together in silence, staring at the house, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Ron cleared his throat, and George turned to look at him.

"It's weird, isn't it," George observed. "Our little sister getting married? I can't imagine…" he trailed off, and Ron grunted his agreement. George shook his head. "Well, at least it's Harry. It isn't like he hasn't been in this family for years already anyway."

"That's true," Ron said. He knew he had to change the subject, but he wasn't sure how. Surprisingly, George made it easy for him.

"He'll ask you to be his best man, I'm sure," George continued. "Don't you think?"

"Actually," Ron said and then he had to clear his throat. His mouth was dry, but he couldn't understand why he was so nervous. He started again.

"Well, when I was out shopping with him the other day, he asked me."

"That's great," George said warmly, but there was an underlying sadness in his voice that Ron couldn't miss. His spirits lifted slightly. Maybe he could help.

"Well, I didn't ask him to be mine," he said slowly, and now George looked up.

"You didn't?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Ron shook his head.

"No. I – well, actually – I wanted to see – well – would you be my best man?"

George stared at him. He stared at him for so long that Ron didn't think he'd ever speak again, but he couldn't read his expression at all. As the silence continued, his nervousness reemerged and he started to babble.

"I hope this doesn't seem weird to you. It's just that – well, I wanted you to have the chance to do this, and now that it's just –" He broke off. He couldn't believe what he'd almost said. George knew it too.

He turned white and sprang off the bench.

"Don't do me any _favors_," he snarled. "Ask Harry. He's the one you really want to have up there with you."

Without another word, he turned on the spot and disappeared, leaving Ron sitting on the bench, his mouth agape.

It was at that moment that Katie and Hermione reappeared. One look at Ron's face told Hermione that all had _not _gone according to plan, and she sighed heavily.

"Didn't go well?" she asked, and Ron turned to look at her. His eyes were bewildered, but he also looked – scared? Hermione's stomach clenched.

"He – he told me not to do him any favors. He told me I should've just asked Harry."

Katie stared from Hermione to Ron and said abruptly, "I should go find him now, I think," and without waiting for any more of an explanation, she, too, disappeared.

Hermione turned to Ron and took a deep breath.

"Tell me what you said," she said quietly, and he repeated the conversation. She sighed again.

"Oh, Ron, how could you bungle this so badly? If you said it like that, I'm surprised he didn't hit you."

Ron groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Why does this have to be so hard?" he asked, his voice muffled. "This is supposed to be happy."

Hermione watched him for a moment before joining him on the bench. He didn't move, and she began to gently rub his back.

"It'll be ok," she said softly. "Katie's gone after him, and maybe we can go find him later. You'll make it up and explain it. He'll understand."

Ron moved his hands away to look at her, and she started at the wounded look in his eyes.

"I only wanted to make him happy, and look what I did," he whispered. "None of this would be happening if Fred—" His voice broke, and he looked away again.

Hermione didn't speak. She just continued to rub his back. He was right. This shouldn't be so hard.


	65. Breakthrough

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: Wow. This went in a completely random direction, but it represents a HUGE breakthrough for George. I can't believe it came from such an unlikely source, though. Well… you'll see.

Katie apparated directly to Diagon Alley and the cobblestones in front of the joke shop. She stared into the darkened windows and knew she had her work cut out for her. George clearly wasn't there, and she turned away, contemplating her next step. There weren't all that many places he could have gone, she thought, trying to calm herself down. But she knew she had reason to worry. Based on what she'd heard Ron say, she had every reason to worry.

She tried the Leaky Cauldron, hoping he'd just picked a nearby spot to drown his sorrows. No such luck. She apparated over to Hogsmeade and checked the Three Broomsticks. He wasn't there either. She was about to head over to Hogwarts and try her luck there when the rusty sign over the Hog's Head caught her eye. She hesitated. George wouldn't go into that ratty old place. There were so many other pubs. But … well, she knew she had no choice but to check on every possibility, especially since she was the only one who knew he was missing.

Slowly, she pushed open the wooden door and, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she looked around the small room. There weren't any customers here at all, and she couldn't say she was surprised. The place was filthy, and it smelled just as bad. She wrinkled her nose as she scanned the room quickly, hoping to get out before she even had to let go of the door. She wasn't about to have that kind of luck.

It was as she was turning to leave that the shock of red hair caught her eye. And it wasn't alone … but was that _Aberforth_? What on earth was Professor Dumbledore's brother doing sitting with George Weasley? She let go of the door, and it swung shut behind her, causing both men to look up with a start as she approached their table.

George was staring at her almost as if he couldn't quite recognize her. She looked down at the table nervously but saw only the one glass in front of him, which did cause her to let out a small sigh of relief. It would be harder to help him home if he'd been drinking a lot.

Aberforth looked at her curiously and when neither she nor George said a word to each other, he shrugged and pointed to a seat at the neighboring table.

"You can pull that over here," he offered, and then he turned back to George.

Katie tried not to roll her eyes. She never understood how this man could be Dumbledore's brother. The only reason she believed it was because of his eyes. There was no way anyone could have those blue eyes and not be a Dumbledore. She'd never seen his twinkle in the way the old headmaster's had, though.

By the time she got the heavy chair back to the table (with no help from either of them), she was in a rotten mood. She sank into the seat and was biting her tongue not to scream at them for their complete lack of consideration when she looked at Aberforth, and her frustration died in her throat.

He was looking at George with all of the compassion and all of the understanding she'd always associated with his brother, and she knew, suddenly, how this man could be a Dumbledore. His next words confirmed it.

"Trust me, George," he said, his voice gentle. "He meant well. You know he did. You even know he didn't really ask you out of pity. He misses your brother as much as you do – it was his brother too, after all. I'm sure he wants you as his best man for himself just as much as he wants it for you."

George nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know. I don't even know why I exploded on him. It's Ron. I shouldn't have expected anything more. I'm lucky he even got the words out at all." His lips twitched with the hint of a smile. "Just ask Hermione," he mumbled almost as an aside. Katie caught it, though, and smiled. But George still didn't turn to her.

His eyes trained solely on Aberforth, he mumbled something that Katie couldn't hear. But the older man smiled sadly and said, "Sure. You can go up. I don't think it'll work anymore, though."

George shrugged and got to his feet. He was halfway out of the room when Katie turned to the bartender in exasperation.

"Where is he going _now_?" she exclaimed, and Aberforth looked at her for a long moment before answering.

"He wants to see if the passageway still worked. I think – I think he also wants to see the picture."

Now she fell silent. The moment he mentioned the picture, a change came over the man, and his eyes suddenly looked sadder than Katie thought anyone's ever should. She instinctively reached out to touch his arm, but he stood up smoothly and moved away to the bar.

"You can go on along with him if you'd like," Aberforth said brusquely. It was clear to Katie that she was not the person this man would talk to. Clearly, he felt a connection with George, but that didn't extend to her. Without another word, she, too, took the stairs.

She found George exactly where Aberforth said he'd be, but he didn't look nearly as calm as he had downstairs. He turned to her, and his voice trembled when he said, "it doesn't work." He gestured to the portrait of Ariana Dumbledore, and Katie felt her heart sink.

She approached him tentatively, knowing he could disappear at any moment given the frantic state he seemed to be entering. She slowly reached out her hand and put it on his shoulder. He didn't throw it off, but he didn't take it either. She left it there, and he started to take deep breaths. Katie couldn't miss the hitching sound of barely suppressed sobs, but she ignored it. She knew he'd want her to.

After a few more deep breaths, he turned back to the portrait on the wall. They both stared at it, and George said, his voice strained, "You know, when we came here to fight, this was nothing more than a way to get to the action. Fred and I – we never stopped to think that this girl was Dumbledore's sister, that he'd _lost_ his _sister_. We never thought of that. We just went through the wall and let her lead us into – that . But now… I can't look at this and think of anything else. She's gone – just like Fred. And Dumbledore and Aberforth – they were left behind – just like me."

Katie's eyes were burning, but she didn't speak. She kept her hand on George's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. This was obviously something he needed to say, and she was determined to let him say it, no matter how hard it was for her to hear.

"I know Aberforth still misses her," he grated out when he was able to use his voice again. "But here he is, all of these years after her death, and he's – well, he owns the dirtiest pub I've ever seen, and he's alone. I don't want to be alone, Katie. I don't want to push my brothers away like he did. I know Ron didn't mean what he said tonight the way it came out. It's just – it's hard knowing that I'll never be best man in the wedding where I was _supposed _to be. It's hard knowing that wedding will never happen."

His voice broke on the last word, and he fell silent again, trying to control his breathing. They stood side by side in front of the portrait for another long moment until Katie couldn't hold herself back any longer. Squeezing his shoulder even more tightly, she turned him to face here.

"I know that the might-have-beens are hard," she whispered. "But they're always going to be hard. You've got it right, though. You don't want to end up in a place like this. Let's go back home. _You've_ got a brother to talk to."

George nodded, blinking hard. She was right. And it _was_ going to be hard. But even though his own life was suddenly much more difficult than he'd ever thought it would be, he knew that this way – this life – would have been so much worse.


	66. Brotherly love

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine; this story is.

A/N: This chapter was wrenchingly sad for me to write, but it needed the catharsis. I know the end seems like… well… the END… but it isn't. There's still a little bit to go. I do know how I want to end this. But there won't be any weddings in this story. Go to Bad Mum's profile if you want to read about those. She's already doing it and so well I can't imagine trying it myself. But I am continuing For Harry if any of you are interested. Please read and review. You can't know how much I appreciate it.

Ron and Hermione sat together under the tree that Katie and George had so abruptly vacated. They weren't talking. Hermione still had her hand on Ron's back, and he still had his face in his hands. Occasionally, she would feel him let out a deep breath, but he wouldn't sit up, and she wasn't about to make him. That could only make this infinitely harder. She wasn't prepared for it to get any harder.

It took Ron a full five minutes before he finally sat up. He kept his face carefully turned away from Hermione, but he said gruffly, "D'you think they'll come back here?"

Hermione shrugged before she remembered that Ron wasn't looking at her.

"I don't know. Probably. I think Katie knows we're not going anywhere, and I'd hope she'd bring George back to resolve this as quickly as possible."

The back of Ron's head jerked in affirmation. There was another silence, and then Hermione said quietly, "This is going to be ok, you know. You just have to tell George that it came out wrong. Because it did. You know you want him to be your best man because you _do_. You know that, and I know that. And I know you can make him know that, too. I know you can, Ron."

Hermione felt herself holding her breath as Ron slowly turned around. He wouldn't look into her face, but he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.

"I hope you're right," he whispered in her ear. "Will you stay this time? That way if I bungle it again, you can help me fix it?"

Her lips twitched, but she said soothingly, "of course I will. It'll be fine."

Ron's arms tightened even more as he buried his face in her hair. "Thanks," he mumbled. He couldn't say another word, but that wasn't important anymore as two loud popping sounds filled the air, and all of a sudden they had company.

None of them seemed to be able to look at each other. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Katie and Hermione stared at each other, seeming to communicate without words, while George and Ron intently studied their feet. Only a minute had passed when the girls suddenly walked away. And it was this that caused Ron and George to look up in desperation.

"Where – where are you going?" Ron called after them, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. It didn't matter. When George echoed his brother's words, it was clear that he felt the same way. Neither Hermione nor Katie turned back, though, and the brothers found themselves very much alone.

Ron coughed uncomfortably, and George kicked at the ground. It was a few minutes before either of them made any attempt to speak, and then the words burst forth from both of them at the same moment.

"I didn't mean – " Ron started at the same time George said, "I'm sorry."

There was another silence as they slowly raised their heads to look at one another.

"You first," George said quietly, and Ron nodded but moved back first to sit on the bench. After an awkward pause, George joined him.

Ron stared at his lap, trying to think of the right words this time. Finally, he took a deep breath and plunged in.

"I want you to be my best man," he said simply. "I know it came out wrong before, but I do. It's not out of pity, and it's not out of obligation. You're my brother, George. And it's right. Harry will be there too, but you … you _are_ my best man. You always have been. You and Fred might have tortured me while we were growing up, but you were always there when I needed you. There's no one else it should be."

There was a long silence, and Ron finally looked up, afraid he'd bungled this again. George was still staring at the ground, but he sniffled, and that's when Ron noticed that his shoulders were shaking slightly. He felt himself tense up, and he swallowed hard. This – this was not what he'd expected. And then George looked up, and Ron got his second surprise of the night.

His eyes were red and swollen, but he looked at Ron and whispered, "There's nothing I'd want more than to be your best man, Ron. I know it came out wrong before, and I'm sorry I left. It was – it was just too hard to realize that I'll never be Fred's – that he'll never get to have any of this. I sometimes think I've gotten used to the idea of all of this, but then there are these reminders, and it's just – it's still hard. I still miss him. But I know he'd be happy if he knew about you and Hermione because _I'm_ happy about you and Hermione. And –" and he couldn't go on. His breathing was ragged, and when Ron turned to look at him through his own blurry eyes, he saw his hands clenched in his lap.

Without even knowing why or how he was suddenly able to do this, Ron broke out of his self-imposed isolation and put his hand on George's shoulder.

"I know it's hard," he said, his own voice wavering. "I miss him too. I wish he could be here. I wish we could go to his wedding someday and that you could be _his_ best man and that we could be the uncles of his kids. But – but I guess we'll just have to make sure that our kids know about their cool Uncle Fred, right? I mean … we have to, don't we?"

George nodded, and Ron could feel his shoulder shaking even more violently under his hand. Slowly, he shifted closer to him on the bench.

There was a moment in which all they could hear was the other's uneven breathing, and then George mumbled, "You're right. We do have to. And I know I will. We can – we can keep his memory alive. It's not enough, but it's what we have, right?"

Ron could hardly swallow. It wasn't enough, and it never would be, but George was right. This was what they had, and they would have to do the best they could.

"Yeah," he said, his voice strangled. He ducked his head as George finally turned to look him in the eye, and then all of a sudden, George was pulling him into a strong hug, and Ron felt the sobs he'd been trying to hold down for the past hour or so suddenly shaking him violently. And for the first time he could remember, he just gave into them completely. If anyone would understand, it was George. And as he felt his brother's shaking matching his own, he knew he did. And he knew that they would be ok. It would always but hard, but at least they had each other – and their memories too.


	67. Two Years Later

Disclaimer: This story is mine; Harry Potter is very much not.

**A/N: I can't believe it, but… this is the end. I can't tell you how much of a ride this has been for me, and I can't express how much I've appreciated all of your reviews and encouragement (especially Katy and Katja). I know this is a relatively short last chapter, but it really is a coda, almost. I think everything was already pretty much wrapped up, but I also knew that this was the date on which I should end it. I will be writing another story. It isn't quite a sequel, but it is a sequel of sorts (thanks to Katja). I'm not sure what the title will be yet, but be on the lookout for it. If you want to know when I put it up, let me know, and I'll PM you. Thanks again!**

It was two years later… and somehow they weren't feeling quite so abandoned anymore.

They all showed up separately, but somehow, everyone managed to get there at the time Molly had requested. It was different this year, not being at Hogwarts, but the Weasleys had come to the mutual agreement that going back there every year on the anniversary would just be too hard. Being there again… well, going to the graveyard would be enough.

They stood in a clump around the grave, and Molly took a moment to look around at her family. There was a new peace now that hadn't been at Hogwarts just one year earlier.

Her eyes fell on her daughter first, and she took comfort in the sight that greeted her. Harry stood with his arms about Ginny as she leaned against him. Her expression was calm, and she looked at the grave with more understanding in her eyes than Molly had ever thought she would see. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who had collapsed on Hermione's shoulder just one year earlier.

Harry… as Molly eyes moved to him, she swallowed hard. His eyes were suspiciously bright, but he blinked hard and pressed his trembling lips to Ginny's red hair, kissing her gently. Then he wrapped his arms even more firmly around her, burying his face in her shoulder. It was hard for him, Molly knew, and it always would be, but he seemed to draw strength from Ginny, and he didn't make a move to leave. This didn't seem to be the year for disappearing acts.

That much was clear as her gaze shifted to Ron and Hermione. It was impossible not to remember Ron's behavior at the Memorial, but this year seemed very different for everyone. For one thing … it was obvious to his mother that Ron was not having the same problem he'd experienced at Hogwarts just 12 months earlier. His stoic act was gone, replaced by eyes that were brimming with tears. Molly wanted to look away from her son's pain, but she also wanted to go to him. She almost did. But then Hermione turned with that sense that Molly had always known she had, and she took one long look at Ron before opening her arms. This time… this year … he responded. Curving himself so he could hide his face in her hair, he gave up any semblance of control, and the sound of his sniffling filled the still air.

He wasn't the only one. In an attempt to preserve his privacy, Molly turned once again, and this time, she found herself looking at Charlie and Percy. They were standing together, and Charlie had his arm around his younger brother's shoulders. They were both staring at the grave, and while tears were slipping down both of their faces, neither of them made a sound. And then Molly realized that Bill was watching them too. He was standing with Fleur and Victoire, and he had his arms around them both as he stared at Charlie and Percy. Molly knew it had to be because it was too hard for him to look at the grave, and when she caught his eye, she also knew she was right. His eyes filled, and he quickly looked down at the ground. She sighed. Some things really would never change.

But some things did. As she finally allowed herself to look at the grave, she also looked at the one person who had come farther than anyone had ever thought he could in the last 24 months. George stood closer to the headstone than any of the rest of them, still needing to be as close to his twin as he reasonably could, but this year… he wasn't doing it alone. Katie stood beside him, her arms wrapped around his waist as his encircled her shoulders. They weren't looking at each other as their faces were both turned to the grave, but even while tears fell from George's eyes, even while his shoulders shook and his sniffling became audible, Katie rubbed his back gently, and he didn't leave. And as Molly leaned against Arthur, she knew that they would be ok. If George could be here – if he could bear this and face it and not run away – then this family would survive in a manner befitting the Weasleys. Fred wouldn't have wanted it any other way.


End file.
